


Winter Biochemist One Shots & AUs

by 8ucky8arnes



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Torture, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:36:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 25,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8ucky8arnes/pseuds/8ucky8arnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Shots and AUs for James Barnes and Jemma Simmons, based on music found in my music library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song by of Verona

Jemma had always prided herself on not being scared easily, so when light turned on down the hall she pulled her mussed hair into a ponytail and quietly opened her bedside table. James wasn't due back from the mission for another two days...Pulling out the 9mm pistol, she disengaged the safety and slowly opened her already ajar bedroom door. Now standing in the hall, she could see the light was coming from the bathroom. Odd...  


Before rounding the corner she raised her gun to what she hoped was the intruder’s head based on the shadow cast, but faltered when she saw the familiar metal arm. She engaged the safety and lowered the gun. "Oh James...it's just you."  


James was hunched over the bathroom sink, wearing only black tactical pants slung low on his hips. Dark hair hung in his eyes, but he didn't react to her presence. Both hands gripped the edge of the sink, the porcelain cracking beneath the chromed metal of his left.  


"James? James are you alright?"  


His lack of response wasn't a good sign. James would have bad days where during a mission he would temporarily revert into the Soldier persona. Steve was always there to bring him back of course, but at home he would be like this. Unmoving, unresponsive... She holstered the gun in the waistband of her sleeping shorts and walked toward him.  


She knew he would never hurt her, no matter his state of mind. So she wasn't afraid as she wrapped her arms around his waist and placed a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. The scent of leather still clung to his skin as she laid her head against the spot where her lips had been, listening to the ever steady beat of his heart. "Come back to me James." She whispered against his back as she ran her fingertips along the smooth planes of his stomach, feeling the raised skin of recently healed wounds. His skin was warm, one of the side effects of being frozen on and off for decades. "Please James."  


She would've missed the shudder that went through him if she hadn't been right up against him. "James?"  


"Didn't mean to wake ya Jemma..." His voice was gravelly, as if he hadn't spoken in a while. He took a deep breath and pulled her away from him. He turned to face her, blue eyes dark and unreadable.  


"It's no problem. Just glad you came home." She gave him a small smile, yet those eyes never changed. She had trouble discerning what was running through his mind as he turned to stare into the mirror. "James?"  


"I nearly killed him...Steve." He ran a hand through his hair, the metal one clenched into a fist at his side. "He pulled me back before I pulled the trigger."  


She went to lay a hand on his shoulder, where metal met flesh, but he shrugged it off. Jemma tried not to be hurt by the reaction. "James..."  


"What do you see when you look at me?" His eyes could burn holes through the glass.  


"I see a man that has been to hell and back." She reached out again, her fingers brushing a strand of dark hair behind his ear. "I see a man who fights those demons on a daily basis." Her fingers continued their path along his jaw. "I see a man that I love."  


"I see a monster who has killed hundreds of people..." Disgust was evident in his eyes, along with the ever present self-hatred, "Who won't hesitate to kill you if you stand in his way." He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes. "You shouldn't love me."  


"Look at me James." Hazel eyes met dark blue. "You are not a monster and no matter how many times you tell me, I will always love you. Nothing will ever change that."  
"What did I do to deserve you?" His eyes trailed down her body, taking in the tank top and cotton shorts. His right hand reached out to cup her jaw, his thumb brushing along her bottom lip. "So beautiful..."  


Like always, her body reacted to his nearness and she cursed her pale skin as warmth rushed to every exposed surface. "You're not too bad yourself..." She breathed out as her heart rate pounded in her ears.  


A genuine smile curled his lips at her flustered response and he reached around her to pull the gun out of the waistband of her shorts, his fingers lightly running along the hem of her tank top. He set it in the sink and before she could even formulate a response, he pulled her into a bruising kiss.  


She sank into him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he lifted her up with ease. Her fingers tangled in his hair and he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue. They parted with a gasp and she was overwhelmed with the taste of James. She drug her nails down his back, electing a growl from deep in his chest as he pressed her against the bathroom wall.  


He pulled away for air, only trail his lips down her neck.  


She moaned as he gently ran his tongue over her racing pulse, heat pooling low in her stomach. "James..."  


"Love it when ya say my name like that doll." His metal hand slipped beneath her tank top and ran his fingers up her stomach, tracing the underside of her breasts. "Say it again." His other hand joined the first and slowly removed her shirt.  


She arched into his touch, moaning as his lips followed his hands. "James..."  


"Atta girl." His teeth grazed her shoulder.  


Detecting a smug note in his tone, she decided to get even. Tangling her hands in his hair, she pulled his lips to her. When he tried to pull back she bit down on his bottom lip, smiling inwardly as he groaned and his hands tightened their grip on her with bruising force. She ground her hips against his, outright laughing at the growl that left his lips. Brushing her lips against his ear, she whispered. "Say my name love."  


"You little vixen." He smiled as he pulled back. "Let's take this to the bedroom. See what you say then."  


She laughed again as she was tossed the bed, his body pinning hers down. Anything else she could say was swallowed by his lips on hers. Any conscious thought was tossed aside like their remaining clothes. She craved the roughness he would give her after a bad mission, craved his teeth sinking into her flesh, craved the imprints of his fingers on her skin…he needed to become lost in someone, to stop thinking himself a monster. Jemma was all too glad to offer herself up to him.  


His anger slowly transformed into something more…something passionate. This was the side of him that she loved the most. The man who held like she was the most precious thing in the world…who whispered endearments in four different languages as she came undone under his touch.  


After it was all over, he would hold her to his chest. She smiled and closed her eyes, the sound of their combined breathing lulling her to sleep.


	2. I'd Come For You (Bones AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taken from the TV show Bones and based on the song by Nickelback.

Jemma had severely underestimated her abilities in stealth as she pulled in behind the suspect she'd decided to tail on a whim. Whether she'd followed too close or looked suspicious she didn't know because the second she entered the abandoned building, a body tackled her to the ground and all the air whooshed from her lungs.

She kicked out, impacting with his stomach, and stumbled to her feet. She didn't get too far before she was pinned down again, her head slamming into the ground hard enough to send white spots across her vision. She squirmed as her hands were wrestled behind her back and fastened with what she assumed were police issue handcuffs. 

"You shouldn't have come alone Doctor Simmons." Agent Grant Ward whispered in her ear. 

She wasn't surprised to find him as the culprit. There had been something off about him since the beginning of the investigation, even though he was one of the FBI agents working the case. She told her partner Barnes about her suspicions, but they had served together as Rangers overseas and Ward had saved his life a couple of times since coming back. Barnes was loyal to a fault and had refused to see the many coincidences that had led her to this conclusion. She could only hope that he was looking for her now. Grant Ward was specially trained and her self defense skills, while exceptional, were no match to his training. 

He pulled her to her feet and pressed a gun to the base of her spine. "Let's have a chat." 

"How could I turn down such a lovely invitation?" She couldn't resist the sarcastic retort and knew Barnes would be smiling right now if he heard her. “After all we have plenty of time." 

The barrel was shoved with bruising force into her back, forcing her forward. Her head throbbed as her world tilted for a moment. His reply was muffled by the blood rushing in her ears and she could do nothing as he pushed her into a room and secured her to one of the metal support beams. He forced her into a sitting position and crouched in front of her, the gun hanging loosely in his hand. “He's told me so much about you.” 

“Do tell.” She stared into his dark eyes. 

“Said you were smart…and beautiful.” His eyes trailed down her body and if she wasn't currently restrained she would've slapped him. “I can see the appeal.” He leaned closer until his face was inches from hers. 

Ignoring her probably bruised temple, she slammed her head into his. She smiled when he stumbled back holding a hand to his forehead and had already predicted his returned blow that snapped her head to the side. She spit out the blood and only glared at him when he let out a laugh. 

"Barnes always had a thing for fiery women." He forced her to look at him. "I'll never understand. Honestly, I've always preferred a woman who will listen." 

"You mean take orders?" She spat out. "You're even more of a chauvinistic pig than I thought." 

"Big words for a little girl." He smiled and crouched in front of her again, but this time at a distance. Those dark eyes showed nothing as he set down the gun and pulled out a knife. "It'll be shame...everyone said you were the best." 

She didn't miss the way he spoke in past tense. "Barnes will kill you." 

"Will he now?" He trailed the tip of the down her cheek. "Barnes has always had a soft spot for those who have saved his life. He won't kill me when he owes me." The tip was now pressed beneath her collarbones with enough force to break skin. 

She hissed as she felt blood slowly trail down between her breasts. "You won't get away with this." The knife sank in deeper and tears came to her eyes as blood began to steadily pour from the wound. "Barnes will come for me." 

"I don't think he will." He watched the knife hit the obstacle that was her sternum. "I arranged a little accident for him." 

Jemma bit her lip to keep the screams at bay, watching as her shirt became soaked with red. She wanted to say that nothing could hold Barnes back when he set his mind to something, how he could push the limits of his body regardless of how broken it was. She closed her eyes when the knife began tearing the neckline of her shirt, the pain becoming too much as she cried out. "Help!...Please somebody help!" 

"Nobody's gonna help you." He walked behind her. The bloody knife was now against her throat. "You are all alone." 

"Really?" Said a voice from the doorway. "Not from where I stand." 

Ward only smiled. "If it isn't James Barnes to the rescue." 

Jemma opened her eyes and nearly sobbed in relief to see Barnes in the doorway, pale blue eyes hard as he aimed a gun at his fellow comrade's head. She went to speak but found the knife press deeper until blood began to trail down her neck, following the path of the first wound. Her gasp of pain had him clenching his jaw. "Put down the knife Grant." His fingers tensed on the trigger, his hand steady. 

"You won't shoot me." 

"You hurt her again and nothing will stop me from killing you where you stand." His voice had taken on a deadly calmness, and his eyes were cold as he stared at Ward. This was such a contrast to the warm Brooklyn accent and bright blue eyes that she'd always known. 

She felt Ward shift behind her and watched as her partner dodged the bullet meant for his head before Barnes aimed his gun and pulled the trigger. Warm blood splattered across her face as a body hit the ground behind her. 

He holstered his gun and walked behind her to unlock the cuffs. He caught her as she fell forward, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest as she started to sob. "Shhh...it's okay. Everything is going to be okay."


	3. I Don't Want This Night to End (College AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by Luke Bryan.

"Hey Steve...who's that?" James nudged his friends shoulder as he caught sight of the girl through the flames of the bonfire. It took another nudge for his friend to finally hear him.

"That's Jemma, Peggy's friend from England. She's visiting for the summer." 

"She's gorgeous." He watched as she threw back her head and let out a laugh that brought a smile to his own lips. 

Steve saw his friend's expression and shook his head. "Peggy will kick your ass if you screw this up." For a moment it looked like Steve would try to stop him, but only patted him on the back and sighed. "You're along on this one." 

Pushing himself off the ground, he brushed the dirt off his jeans. He slowly made his way over to Jemma, watching the way the combined light of the fire and full moon danced across her ivory skin. When he got within a few feet, she noticed his presence and turned. 

She gave him a shy smile. "Hello?" 

God that accent was gonna do him in. "Hey, my name is James...James Barnes." He held out his hand and his breath faltered as she took it. 

That shy smile turned beautiful as she squeezed his hand. "Oh James...Peggy's told me so much about you." 

He spared a glance at the brunette attached at Steve's hip. "All good things I hope." 

"Of course." She smiled and motioned to the empty spot next to her. "Would you like a seat?" 

"Sure." He sat, shedding his leather jacket before the heat would become bothersome. He watched her expression as the scarring on his left arm became visible. 

Her eyes, a beautiful blending of blue and green, widened. There wasn't the usual pity or even disgust that some people had when they saw the scars. She was curious though, he could tell, but said nothing as he folded his jacket over the log they were currently sitting on. Her only response was to let her hair out of the confines of the hair tie, sun-kissed brown hair tumbling down her back. She pulled the tie onto her wrist and combed through some of the tangles with her fingers. 

His nails dug into the wood as he fought the urge to see if her hair was as soft as it looked. He instead stared at his left arm, the fire highlighting the shiny scar tissue. "You uh...aren't going to ask?" 

"Why would I?" She gave him a reassuring smile. 

He relaxed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. "Most people do." 

She tilted her head, her eyebrows pulled together. "Do I seem like most people?" He shook his head. "No you don't...it's refreshing actually." 

"Hey Bucky?" 

He cringed at the childhood nickname and turned to his friend. "Yeah Steve?" 

"I'm gonna take Peggy home. She's not feelin' well." The woman in question was leaning heavily on his arm. "Can you take Jemma home?" 

Steve was lying, James could tell because he was refusing to meet his eyes. He looked over at Jemma and she shrugged. "Yeah I can do that." He nodded towards Peggy. "Hope you feel better." 

Jemma wished them both well and turned back to James, an eyebrow raised. "Bucky?" He groaned. "Steve gave the name to me when were kids. Short for Buchanan, my middle name. Don't know why it ever stuck." 

She bumped her shoulder against his. "I think it's cute." 

"Oh I'm cute now?" 

She looked down at feet for a moment before grabbing his hand and pulling him off the log when the radio turned on. "Come on...dance with me." Her smile was bright as the fire as he stood up and she took his left hand, twining her fingers in his. 

He couldn't remember the last time anyone had held his scarred hand so unabashedly or where he had laughed so freely. Each time he spun her around, he could catch the scent of apple-scented shampoo. The song ended with her chest against his, the warmth between their bodies not from the bonfire. 

She stared up at him, her skin flushed and lips pulled into a blissful smile. "You're a good dancer James Barnes. Have you done this before?" 

"Nope...just had a good partner." He smiled down at her. "Come on I have an idea." 

"Would this by any chance be one of those bad ideas that Peggy always tells me about?" She laughed at his face. "What? I've heard the stories about you and Steve." 

"Did she tell that Steve was the one behind them all?" Silence. "Figures. Trust me Jemma." 

"Okay I trust you." 

"Let's go for a swim then." 

"A swim?" She asked as they neared the lake's edge. "Without bathing suits?" 

He let go of her hand and pulled off his shirt, throwing it on the bank. He didn't miss the appreciative looks she gave him nor the blush that came to her cheeks when he caught her looking. "You not joinin' me?" 

She pulled her eyes from his chest and bit her lip. "I don't know..." 

"Can you swim?" 

"Of course I can." She huffed out, motioning to her dress. "I just don't want to ruin my dress. Peggy got it for me." 

He eyed the navy blue dress the accentuated her bust and curves, while still keeping her modest. He noticed her playing with the hem on the dress, which drew his attention to her slim legs. He held out his hand. "She won't mind." 

Jemma smiled as she slowly stepped toward him and without warning, shoved him off the dock and into the lake. 

He came up spluttering water to see her laughing, which had him laughing in return. "You wanna join me now or you just gonna sit there and laugh at me?" 

Her response was to jump in right next to him, her hair now plastered to her face as she came to the surface. "I can't believe you thought I was scared." 

"Hey!" He held his hands up for a moment. "Just bein' a gentlemen." 

"A rare breed indeed." She wound her hands around his neck and pulled herself against him. 

He held his breath as she brought her lips closer to his. There was a moment of silence, the only sound the water lapping against their skin, before she pulled his lips to hers. He brought his hands to her hair, tangling the wet locks between his fingers. Tugging gently at her scalp, her lips parted with a gasp and he lost himself in the taste of her, the feel of her wet skin sliding against his. His hands settled on her hips as he pulled away for air, his forehead resting against hers. 

"I've wanted to that since I first saw you James Barnes." She played with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

"How was it then?" 

"Even better than I imagined."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't super happy with how this one turned out, but I hope you enjoyed it.


	4. Where Is the Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by Within Temptaion

James had said her being on this mission wasn't the best idea and she'd always thought that she would be the one to go down if that mission ever went south. She never expected James to collapse with the uttering of a single Russian word.

They were loaded in an armored van that was driven to an unknown location, where they were stripped of all their clothing and trackers. Jemma watched, outraged, at the horrible way they were treating James' unconscious body and cried out as they stabbed a prod in between the prosthetic and flesh. His body arched in pain, but nothing else happened as the arm completely locked up. When she broke her restraints to reach him, she too was rendered unconscious. 

She awoke in a dark room to James calling her name. He'd been beaten and even his enhanced healing couldn't keep up with the amount of injuries currently seen on his bare torso. The metal arm still wasn't functioning. "James? Are you okay?" 

" 'm fine doll." He shifted with a groan. "Nothing I haven't been through before." 

"I've told you not to call me doll." She squinted and caught shackles around his right wrist and ankles. They weren't ordinary shackles though, she could see the metal pins drilled into his wrist and ankles. No breaking out of those... "Do you know these people?" 

"Yes...they're the last known associates of Pierce." He growled something in Russian and pulled at his restraints, blood dripping onto the floor. "I never should have brought you with me." 

"You couldn't have known James." She sank to the floor, her chains rattling as she did. She starred down at her bare feet, which were covered in blood and dirt. She wasn't going to tell him how they made her strip or about the hungry looks they gave her body when they did... 

"I should have." He looked up at her, his eyes nearly black in the dimness. "The signs were there and I refused to see them. This is all my fault." 

The door swung open. "Amazing...I didn't think the Asset could speak without being told." The man crouched a safe distance away. "How long have you been out of cryo may I ask?" 

James' eyes flattened dangerously and Jemma knew the Soldier was close to the surface as he pulled on the restraints haphazardly. Pain was a distraction, he'd told her before, a way to keep his mind in the present. "Almost three years now." 

"And to think...The Winter Soldier reduced to this man." He stood up and walked over to her, a dark glint in his eyes as he pulled out a small dagger. "All because of a woman." She froze as the tip of the blade ran down her neck, ignoring the man and instead focusing her gaze on James. He was at war within himself, his eyes flickering between flat and bright, and his body had gone completely rigid. She silently pleaded with him as he pulled on the restraint hard enough that she could hear bones cracking and flesh tearing. He let out a string of Russian that she couldn't follow, but could just tell by the tone that it spoke of a very painful death. 

“Disobedience deserves punishment Soldier.” He opened a cut on her forearm. “This time it will be her who is punished.” The knife was now pressed against her throat. "What will it be?" 

James' expression never faltered, but he stopped pulling at his restraints. Two more men came into the cell and made their way over to him. They were both armed to the teeth and it took a moment for Jemma to understand why. There was no warning as a knife sliced across his chest, blood dripping onto the floor. He didn't make a sound and there was no sign that the wound pained him. He only kept staring at her. 

Jemma found herself being gagged as the other man sent a steel toed boot into James' unprotected stomach and she could've sworn she heard something crack. The gag muffled her screams as the two men continued to pummel James. The man that had been holding a knife to her throat watched with an almost amused expression, that knife twirling between his fingers. 

"Usually we have to break him more before he complies." He sighed as a particular hit finally knocked James unconscious, his body sagging against the restraints. "Shame...it usually takes longer for him to pass out. James Barnes is weaker than the Soldier..." He walked over to James and stabbed the knife into his side. 

Jemma screamed as blood began to pour from the wound and knew that something vital had been pierced when the blood flow didn't slow like all the other wounds had. He pulled the knife out with a sucking sound and threw it on the ground at her feet. 

"Have fun watching him die Doctor Simmons." The door slammed. 

Jemma worked the duct tape away from her mouth. "James?...James!" 

A cough. "You don't need to shout doll...I can hear ya just fine." 

"You're bleeding out James...now is not the time for pet names." 

"Distracts me from the pain." He shifted the restraints. "You okay?" 

"The cut stings a little, but I'm fine." She craned her head to the door. "Now how are we going to get out? Your restraints are drilled into the bone. I have nothing to break the zip ties." 

"Can you reach that knife...?” The pool of blood was growing larger by the second and his words were starting to slur. "To cut the ties?" 

"Yeah I think I can." She laid on the ground as flat as she could and her toes were inches away from the hilt. Her shoulders strained to lower and she bit her lip as the cut on her arm burned along with her muscles. "I don't think I can." 

"You're close Jemma...just stretch a little more." 

"If I stretch anymore I risk dislocating one or both of my shoulders." 

James sent her a tired smile. "I'll help ya pop it back when we get outta here." 

"Sorry...I just don't think I could handle the pain." Tears were streaming down her face. "I'm a scientist. I'm not like you...I'm not trained. I can't do it..." 

"Jemma Simmons doesn't give up...I've watched you work." James shifts, probably trying to keep himself awake. "You are one of the most stubborn people I know and that is saying something." He lets out a dry laugh which then turned into a cough. "I know you will do anything to protect the people you care for..." He coughed again, a painful wet sound. "I promise you the pain will be worth it in the end. Push yourself a little more." 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes before stretching, her entire body locked, refusing to go further. She met James' eyes, dark blue and glazed over with pain. He trusted her to get them out. She cataloged his injuries and knew that the knife had most likely pierced a lung and that the lung was filling with blood as was evident by the excessive coughing. She had to do this and she had to do it now. Another deep breath and...stretch. A loud pop sounded as her left shoulder dislocated and she bit her lip to silence the scream before it left her mouth. Her vision darkened around the edges as her entire body was awash with pain. 

"Stay with me Jemma...get the knife." His voice, while raspy, was soothing. 

She blinked, forcing herself to focus on the blade as she somehow managed to pull the knife closer. Spinning around, she grasped the knife in her right hand and started cutting the ties. Given that the blade was covered in James' blood, she nearly dropped it and sliced open her hand to keep that from happening. The tie snapped and she gripped the knife tightly as she stumbled to her feet. It took her a moment for to regain her balance. "James...what do I do know?" 

"There's a latch on the cuff." His body rattled as he pulled in a breath. "If you slide the blade in between, it'll disable the pins." 

She did as she was told, the pins and cuffs releasing as she slide the blade in. He took the knife from her and opened the door to their cell slowly, shoving her back as he slammed the man into the wall with his locked up left arm, knocking the man out. She was surprised to find practically no men guarding them, but she understood when she saw a familiar redhead wielding two Glock 26s. 

“Heard you needed a rescue.”


	5. World on Fire (ATLA AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by Les Friction and the animated series Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Jemma ducked as a ball of fire blazed overhead, striking the safe house she’d been in moments before. She spared a glance at the other refugees and was relieved to see them making their way into the forest, she was about to turn and join them when a wave of heat knocked her back into a stone wall.

“Look who we have here.” A Fire Nation soldier made his way over to her, a smug grin on his face. Fire was formed into two daggers in his hands. “A little Earth girl…” 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“I heard you had a friend of mine.” 

“I find that hard to believe.” Her sarcastic comment had her held against the wall by her throat, a flame hovering inches from her face. “Your manners leave something to be desired.” 

“Where is he?” The flames grew larger, hotter. “Don’t make me ask again.” 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” She lifted her chin, glaring into those amber eyes. 

“The Half Breed…” He snarled. “…where is he?” 

“He is right behind you. I would drop the girl.” 

Jemma smiled as she was dropped and rolled away as the man was blasted with a wave of blue fire, James’ signature firebending. The soldier groaned as he fell to the ground, smoke rising from his toasted uniform. She got to her feet with a grin and wrapped her arms around him. “It’s so good to see you.” 

He laughed. “You too Jem.” 

“What did you do?” She looked at the soldier. “He seemed pretty upset.” 

“I was born Jemma.” He shrugged, his voice taking on a familiar bitter edge whenever he spoke of his past. “My parents were both killed because of that. My body was disfigured because of that.” He held up his scarred left arm. His blue eyes were like ice as he stared down at the man and a matching flame formed in his hand. “This man will die because of what he did.” 

“James…” She laid a hand on his left arm. “Come on. More soldiers will come.” 

“Let them come.” He voice had flattened. “I’ll kill them all.” 

“You will do no such thing.” Jemma stepped in front of him, the blue fire hot against her face. “We need to leave before more come.” She stared up into his cold eyes and reached up to cup his jaw. “Don’t make me beg.” 

He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes, dropping his hands. “Okay, let’s go.” 

She twined her fingers in his and they took off into the forest. After a few minutes of running they paused to look back at the small village that was now up in flames. She looked over at James, his profile lite by the light of the fire. 

His jaw was clenched, those brilliant blue eyes full of unshed tears. It was only a few years ago that he watched his home village burned and his father executed for being a traitor. She’d taken him in about a year after it all happened…he was on a path for revenge now. The icy eyes and flat voice were the first signs of his time bomb of rage that burned his enemies to a crisp. 

“James…you still with me?” 

“Yeah.” He breathed. “Did everyone make it out?” 

“A few minor burns, but everyone is alive.” She squeezed his hand. 

He squeezed back, but Jemma didn't miss the guilt in his expression as he watched the flames. “This is my fault. This village burned because I was here.” 

“Everyone knew the risks James.” 

“Doesn’t mean they needed to take them.” He went to pull away from her. “Doesn’t mean you need to.” He looked down at their twined hands with an unreadable expression. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” 

“What are you going to do?” Jemma asked. “Take on the whole Fire Nation?” 

“Don’t take that tone with me Jemma, you have no idea what they’ve done to me.” 

She couldn’t stop herself from slapping him. “How dare you! I lost my brother to the war. My friend Skye is now blind and my mother…she hasn’t spoken since my brother dies. So don’t you dare tell me that I haven’t suffered!” Tears were streaming down her face so she didn’t see him come closer until his hands cupped her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry Jemma…I’m so sorry.” He rested his forehead against hers, the heat beneath his skin a comfort. His breath fanned her face as he stared down at her, those blue eyes nearly black. He brushed away her tears, his hands shaking. 

“James…what are you-?” 

His lips were on hers before could complete the sentence. His hesitancy didn’t last as she wound her arms around his neck and felt her back against a tree. His touch literally felt like fire against her skin as his hands slowly undid the sash of her tunic, bringing their chests flush. 

She pulled away as his hands brushed her bare stomach, cursing herself on how breathless her voice was when she met his darkening gaze. “We shouldn’t be doing this here James.” 

“So where should we be doing this?” He gave her an easy smile, those eyes bright. His hands slipped beneath her undershirt again. 

“James that’s not what I meant.” She twined her fingers with his. “We need to find the other refugees. They might be worried about us.” 

"Let them worry." He said, his gaze softening as his arms wrapped around her waist. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against her own. Those hands once again began to run along the smooth plans of her stomach as he pressed her back against the tree. "Just let them worry."


	6. Beating Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by Ellie Goulding

James looked down at Jemma's sleeping form, watching as the pale moonlight cast shadows on the bare skin of her back. He traced the curve of her spine with his flesh hand, counting each vertebrate and envying her ability to sleep peacefully and soundly. He knew he would never sleep like that again, not when saw the faces of the Winter Soldier's victims each time he closed his eyes. He pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder and breathed in her scent of lavender and Chamomile before finally sliding out of bed and pulling on the clothes he folded on top of his nightstand.

He didn't want to do this to her...didn't want to leave. But he knew he didn't deserve her, even as she whispered "I love you" in is ear over and over again. She would realize once he was gone that she was better off without him. At least that's what he told himself as he packed a few changes of clothes and a small stash of weapons in a duffel bag. 

He had just shut the bedroom door when a near silent footstep alerted him to a presence. While instinct told him to draw his weapon, he didn't. He knew exactly who it was. "What are you doin' Steve?" 

The blonde super soldier stood in the doorway of his apartment, arms folded across his chest. Those eyes grew concerned when he caught sight of the duffel bag slung over his friend's shoulder and James cursed Steve's ability to read him like a book. "You can't leave Bucky." 

"You can't stop me." He countered, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. "Don't even try." 

"Well I'm going to." Steve motioned to the bedroom door. "Because you can't do that to her." 

"She'll be okay...she deserves better than me." 

"Do you even hear yourself right now?" Anger was seeping into Steve's concerned voice. "She won't be okay, she will be heartbroken. You leaving would destroy her and don't give me that bullshit of 'she'll find someone better'. You know it's not true." 

They were standing toe to toe now. "Move Steve." 

He clenched his jaw. "No." 

" _Proch' s dorogi._ " He growled out, letting the coldness of the Soldier seep into his voice. 

Steve didn't even flinch as he responded in the same language. " _Net._ " 

"Damnit Steve just move." James was getting frustrated now. Why couldn't Steve see that he was helping Jemma? He was only a burden to her, a broken man when she deserved someone who was whole. "Just let me go." 

"She talks about you all the time you know." Steve held his gaze. "How caring you are to her...how protective you are of your loved ones. How much of a charmer you can be..." 

"Steve..." 

"She loves you James." Steve was gripping his shoulders. "And I know you love her too." 

The anger and frustration left him in a sigh. "She shouldn't love me Steve. She deserves someone good...someone like you." 

"Don't let Tasha hear you say that." Steve said lightly. 

"I should've never pushed you two together. You'll both be the death of me." He set the duffel bag on the floor and sank down onto the couch, glancing around the dark apartment. 

The bookshelf that took up a corner of the living area was crammed full of classic literature, Harry Potter, scientific journals, and Doctor Who DVDs. Moonlight gleamed off the stainless steel tea kettle on the stove, along with two tea cups placed beside it. James had always been one for black coffee, but he could remember her smile when she finally got him to try some her favorite types of tea... She was everywhere. "What do I do then?" 

Steve sat next to him, laying a gentle hand on his left shoulder. He didn't flinch from the metal or look at it like it wasn't a part of him. "Just stay and talk to her. Tell her what you told me." 

"It's not that easy Steve and you know it." He ran his flesh hand through his shortened hair and he was flashed back to hours earlier when she had done the same thing, her beautifully accented voice gasping his name… “I don't deserve her Steve.” 

“Tasha said the same thing to me the other day.” Steve dropped his hand from his shoulder. "She actually made the same argument as well, but I will tell you the same thing I told her: when someone has been through what you've been through, you deserve someone who makes you happy... you deserve love." 

"She doesn't know what I've seen...what I've done..." He stared at his metal hand, which he then clenched into a fist. Another moment...a memory of Jemma running light fingers over the chromed surface before pressing a kiss to the palm. He wished he could feel her touch then. No one had ever touched the arm with anything other than roughness and pain. 

"She does. She read the file Natasha got from her contact in Kiev…or the translations of the file at least." Steve didn't seem happy about it as he caught his friend's horrified expression. "You remember she was one of the doctors that treated you when I brought you in right?" 

"Vaguely." His memories of that time were still hard to grasp. 

"She requested information on the...procedures performed so she could best help." 

"What did she say about it...afterwards?" 

Steve looked over his friend's shoulder. "Why don't you ask her yourself?" 

James followed his gaze and found the door to his room open with Jemma clad in only one of his shirts. His eyes didn't leave her when he heard Steve leave the apartment and shut the door. She really was beautiful, the dark shirt making her smooth ivory skin glow in the dim light. His own English Rose... 

She was hesitant as she stepped out of the doorway, her cheeks flushed from being caught by both super soldiers. It didn't take her long to take in his fully clothed state and the duffel bag on the floor next to the couch. It was evident from her watery eyes that she had heard enough of the discussion. "Were you really going to leave?" 

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I was thinkin' about it." 

"What would make you think I don't deserve you?" She stood in front of him, her hands cupping his jaw. Her blue green eyes were sad as her thumbs brushed along his cheekbones. "That you're not worthy of love?" 

"You read my file...you know." 

Her hands trailed down his neck and settled on his shoulders, warm through the thin shirt. "I know you suffered...I know you were broken down, changed." Jemma pressed a kiss to his forehead. "And even after all that...you remembered Steve. You remembered who you are." 

James wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, resting his head against her chest. He could feel her heart rate increase as he pressed a kiss to the curve of her shoulder before whispering against her skin in Russian. " _Vo vremya moikh plokhikh dney vy prichina, ya pomnyu, kto ya._ " 

"I wish I could understand Russian." 

He smiled at the exasperation in her tone. "No, you really don't." He pulled her in for a kiss. "Have I ever told you that you look good in my clothes?" He reached under the shirt, exposing her smooth skin to his touch. "Really good." 

She let out a breathy laugh, her hands slipping beneath his shirt to run her fingers along the ridges of his stomach. "This discussion isn't over." 

"It is for now." He said before pulling her in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Proch' s dorogi_ \- Out of the way!  
>  _Net_ \- No  
>  _Vo vremya moikh plokhikh dney vy prichina, ya pomnyu, kto ya_ \- During my bad days you're the reason I remember who I am


	7. The Other Side (Psychic Medium Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by Evanescence.

Jemma had known from the time she was a little girl that she was different. The 'gift', or at least that's what her grandmother called it, had skipped her mother. It began with crude drawings that came true and was quickly followed by strange feelings and weird 'dreams'. It had come to the point where she was hearing strange voices and catching what appeared to be flickering people in the corners of her vision. It came to a boil when she transferred to the States after college.

She'd been having a nightmare for the last week. It was the same every night: it was cold, everything rushing by her in a free fall, and a train getting farther and farther away... She still woke with a scream, a sheen of sweat coating her skin. She brushed her hair away from her face and pulled it into a sloppy ponytail. The carpet was cool underneath her feet as she made her way into the bathroom. She flipped on the switch and splashed cold water on her flushed face. _I wish whoever was trying to talk to me would actually talk to me because I would like to get some sleep..._

Drying off her face, she jumped nearly a foot in the air when she saw a young man standing in the open doorway. He was wearing what looked to be an old military uniform with an old slicked back hairstyle and dark blue eyes that crinkled at the corners. He gave her a crooked smile at her reaction. "Ah come on doll...I ain't that scary." 

She was intrigued by not only the accent and slang, but the fact that she could see and hear him. She was used to getting one or the other, plus they never usually had actual conversations. This was strange indeed. "Just wasn't expecting it is all..." She read the name on his uniform. "Barnes?" 

"James...but most people just call me Bucky." His form flickered for a moment before solidifying again. "Been trying to talk to you all week." 

"I've noticed." She replied, noticing as his form flickered that his left arm became a torn bloody stump. It was most likely caused by the fall. "What do you want to talk about?" 

"I'm looking for someone...he was my friend." 

For a moment she thought she lost him as she walked back to her bedroom, but noticed him standing by the window when she turned around. His form currently was the one with the missing left arm. She took a moment to get a closer look at the uniform and recognized it from her history books. James 'Bucky' Barnes was killed during World War II. 

"What year is it?" 

"2015." 

His expression turned thoughtful. "He would be 97 years old now." 

"Did he serve with you?" She noticed him nod. "I have a friend at the VFW office in DC. I could have him pull a few strings...see where he is." She grabbed her cell phone. "Do you have a name I can give him?" 

"Captain Steven Grant Rogers." 

She dialed the number, not surprised when it was picked up on the second ring. 

"Good God Jemma, why are you calling me at three in the morning?" 

"Hello to you too Sam." She smiled, glancing over at Barnes. "I have a question for you." 

"What can I do you for...?” He yawned. "My fair English friend?" 

"I'm looking for a World War Two vet by the name of Steven Grant Rogers." She waited with bated breath for his response, sparing a glance at the currently flickering form of James. He seemed to be lost in another time...probably while he was alive. 

"Any particular reason for this?" 

"I got one of those feelings again Sam." 

The line was silent for a moment. "Is this feeling reliable?" 

"He said he served with him...wants to know if he is still alive." She listened to the muffled shuffling. "Sam?" 

"Yeah I'm still here...just processing is all. He still there?" 

"Yeah he's..." The man in question had vanished. "Gone." 

"Well then...let me know if he comes back. I'll call you with an update." 

"Thank you so much Sam." She hung up the phone and turned to her empty apartment. "James? James are you still here?" Her entire left arm went completely numb for a moment and was engulfed with a gust of icy wind that brought her to her knees. She hated when this happened. "James...please talk to me." 

In response to her plea, she found herself back on the floor of her apartment, her left arm full of pins and needles. Using the bed frame, she pulled herself onto her feet. Closing her eyes, she allowed her sixth sense to take hold. There were the quiet whispers that always hovered in the back of her mind, the images on the edge of her fingertips that were waiting to be drawn...but nothing as a strong as James' presence was in her apartment. She slipped back into bed. It looked like she would be alone tonight... 

Jemma awoke to her alarm clock three hours later. Grabbing her outfit for the day, she stepped out of her pajamas and into the hot shower. Squeezing shampoo in her hand, she began to scrub it into her scalp. Humming a tune to herself, she was rinsing out her hair when another voice joined her. She wasn't scared nor surprised to find Barnes when she stuck her head outside the curtain. "Anything I can help you with?" 

Those blue eyes were bright with mischief as he smiled. "Just your company." 

"I'll be happy to comply...if you allow me to change first." She watched the realization dawn on his face, laughing at how quickly he managed to phase out of the bathroom. Shaking her head, she quickly pulled on her clothes and wrapped her hair in a towel before making her way into the kitchen to fill the kettle with water and put it on the stove. "What is it with the British and tea?" He watched her pull down a mug from the cabinet. 

"I could say the same thing about Americans and coffee." It took her a moment to realize a change in his clothing. She'd never known a spirit to take multiple forms, although he seemed more at ease in this one. 

James was wearing high waisted brown pants and a white button up that was rolled up to his elbows. His dark hair was slicked back and his arms were folded across his chest as he leaned back against her counter. He smiled when she was caught looking. 

"See somethin' you like doll?" 

She was saved by the sound of her cell phone ringing from the other room. Hurriedly picking up the phone, she answered the call, already knowing who the caller was. "Good morning Sam...Got anything?" 

"I found a man by the name of Steven Grant Rogers. He is currently living at his granddaughter's residence in Brooklyn. Her name is Sharon Rogers and I have a current address." She wrote down the address with a smile. "Thank you so much Sam." 

"No problem Jemma. You have a good day." 

"You too." She turned to James with a grin after she hung up. "Sam found him."


	8. Afterlife (Psychic Medium Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by Nemesa.

James didn't need to be visible for Jemma to know that he was following her as she took a cab to the address she'd been given. She appreciated the discrepancy when she knocked on the door and a blonde woman answered the door. "Are you Sharon Rogers?"

"Yes...how may I help you?" 

"I'm Jemma Simmons, a friend of Sam Wilson. He talked to you this morning..." She held out her hand, which Sharon shook. As soon as Jemma made contact with her skin, she could feel Sharon's anxiety and sadness. Something was wrong... 

She nodded. "He said you wanted to talk to my grandfather about an old friend?" 

"Yes." She saw James hovering in the corner of her vision. "His name is James Barnes." 

Sharon was stunned, but allowed her into the house anyways. She led her down the hallway, stopping in front of a cracked door. She knocked. 

A gravelly voice replied. "Come in." 

Before Jemma could enter, Sharon had gently grabbed her arm. Looking into the woman's eyes, she could finally discern what was wrong. Steve Rogers was dying from dementia and it was only a matter of time before it took him. Jemma only nodded, not needing words to understand. She pushed open the door, smiling when he noticed her enter. "Hello Steve." 

Glazed over blue eyes met hers. "Peggy...is that you?" 

Sharon let out a choked off sound before leaving the room, but Jemma was locked in those hazy eyes. She felt another presence besides James, but could only grasp vague impressions: pinned up dark brown hair, painted red lips, London accented voice... Peggy was his wife. She'd been dead almost a year. "No my name is Jemma. I'm a friend of Sam Wilson." 

Steve smiled and for a moment Jemma was transported back yet again to see a tall, broad shouldered blonde with his head tossed back in laughter. "Sam always got the prettiest dames." 

James snorted and Jemma looked over at him. He was still wearing the brown pants and white button up. He'd been tense, his nervous energy rubbing off on her. Now he seemed relaxed, almost at peace when he looked at his friend. "I don't know about that. You're quite the looker yourself." 

"Such a charmer...almost reminds me of..." He blinked, those eyes settling on James. His voice trailed off as he stared and he blinked a few more times as if reassuring himself that what he was seeing was real. "Bucky?" 

"Hey Stevie." James made his way over to Steve's side. "Still kickin'?" 

He let out a laugh. "No thanks to you." 

With those four words, ice filled Jemma's veins and her entire body locked up. She remembered her grandmother telling her that those near death could communicate with spirits. She knew most people would amount that to a disease or mortal injury, or even some mental disorder. Her hands shook as images flashed behind her eyes of the young men with arms wrapped around each other's shoulder, of two young boys playing soldier in the back alley, of Steve grasping for James' hand as he fell... 

She didn't realize she'd fallen to her knees until she felt a familiar presence surround her. James' dark blue eyes met hers and Jemma realized that he knew about Steve as well. She was able to get to her feet before Sharon walked back into the room and asked them to leave. She said goodbye to both Steve and Sharon before hailing a cab to back to her place. 

"He dyin' ain't he?" James voice was raw, empty of the charm and charisma she'd recently heard. He was now wearing what he died in, missing arm and all. 

"Yes...I picked up dementia. He doesn't have long..." 

"He saw me...that's bad isn't it?" 

Jemma nodded, wishing she could wrap a comforting arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry James." 

"S'okay doll." He gave her a tired smile. "I kinda figured it'd be like this." 

"When he passes...will you go with him?" Jemma shoved her feelings of sadness and jealousy away. She knew that James would leave with his friend, pass on to a better place. It wouldn't be healthy for James to stay here any longer that he already had, but she'd found herself enjoying his company... 

"I've been alone for so long, but...it was good to see Steve again." He seemed to catch were her questioning was going because he sent her a patronizing smile. "Why? Ya gonna miss me?" 

She rolled her eyes, trying and failing to stop the blush that stained her cheeks. "Well yeah...but it's not what you think." She added quickly. "No one wants to be friends with the girl who can read their emotions and communicate with the dead." 

"That why you came to America?" 

"Among other things." She looked away from him, not willing to drudge up her unpleasant childhood. "My loneliness is no reason for you to stay James. I'm used to being alone." 

"Doesn't mean you have to like it." 

"I can't ask you to stay." She didn't look at him as they exited the cab and unlocked her apartment. "It wouldn't be right." She folded her jacket over the edge of the couch and made her way in the kitchen. She fixed herself a sandwich and sat at the kitchen table. Her body stiffened when she felt a cold spot on her shoulder and she meant James’ eyes. “What?” 

“What do ya mean by it isn't right?” His brow was furrowed. 

“Most spirits like you that stay behind because they have unfinished business. Your business was to find Steve and you've done that. Staying here without a reason…it changes you. You won't be yourself anymore and I don't want to be responsible for that. You deserve to rest in peace.” 

“What if my new unfinished business was waiting for you?” 

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at him. There was no teasing tone to his voice, nor the ever present New York lilt. He was actually serious… “What about Steve?” 

“Not the first time I waited on a girl.” That smile was back. “He won't be surprised.” 

“Thank you James.” She returned the smile. “Thank you so much.” 

“S’not a problem. Everybody needs a friend.”


	9. I Hope You Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by Lee Ann Womack.

When the team was called to pick up an injured operative somewhere deep within the Russian region of Siberia, Jemma didn’t expect The Winter Soldier come limping in, the shivering body of the HYDRA informant slung over his left shoulder.

The shock wore off as she instructed him to lay the informant, who she realized was a man a few years younger than her, on the bed. She stripped the man of his frozen clothing and began drying him off with a nearby stack of warm towels, aware of The Winter- Barnes’ eyes on her as she instructed the medical personal present to care for the young man. She turned to meet a pair of icy blue eyes. 

“How is he?” 

“You were lucky you brought him in when you did. He’ll be lethargic for the next few days or so, but he’ll live.” She took the chance to assess him for injuries, taking in his dripping hair and wind burned skin. His tactical gear was soaked, not allowing her to see much injury-wise, but she did notice the small shiver rack his body. Speaking of tactical gear, she realized that on account of it being wet and weighed downed by his arsenal of weapons, he was probably carrying almost up to a hundred pounds and that wasn’t including the almost two hundred pound body of the young man. Super soldier or not, he was probably exhausted. (Not like he would ever admit it). “Could you take your gear off so I can check you for injuries?” 

He gave her a tired smile as he began to set his weapons on one of the tables. “This isn’t necessary ya know.” 

“You were limping when you came in. I’m pretty sure it is.” She pulled off her latex gloves. “Let me get you some dry clothes…and don’t leave until I’ve cleared you.” 

That smile turned into a smirk. “Yes, Ma’am.” 

Jemma hurried out of the medical suite. She knew men like Barnes didn’t think they needed any medical attention and would leave the second they were out of her sight. Her rush to the clothes had her colliding with Skye, who was carrying said clothes in her arms. 

“Is Barnes with you now?” 

“Yeah.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Just want to get back before he decides he doesn’t want my help.” She took the bundle, seeing underwear, basketball shorts, and a black wife beater. The shorts and shirt would allow her to see if he was trying to hide any injuries in particular. “Thank you, Skye.” 

She smiled. “No problem…Just let him know that Coulson wants to debrief him when he’s done with you.” 

“I will.” With a smile, she turned around and hurried the way she’d came. 

She was a little surprised to find his gear and weapons on the counter, even more so when she heard the shower running. Walking over, she caught the steam rising from underneath the door. Good, she thought, he needed to warm up. Adjusting the clothes in her arms, she knocked on the door, not wanting to startle the former assassin. 

“Come in.” 

She was assaulted by a wave of hot steam when she opened the door and walked into the bathroom. “I have your clothes.” 

“Set ‘em next to the sink.” 

She did that, taking notice of the pile of wet clothes on the floor and the bloody strips of fabric in the trash bin. Jemma tried not to be concerned with the amount of blood present. Instead, she picked up the wet clothes and smiled. “Don’t keep me waiting Barnes.” 

He stuck his head out a smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it doll.” 

She hoped her flushed face could be caused by the steam instead of the heated look he had given her before returning to his shower. She let out a huff when she heard a quiet laugh as she left the bathroom and threw the wet clothes in the hamper. Damn flirt… 

Jemma busied herself by pulling out bandages, gauze, a needle, and surgical thread, not really sure what was actually necessary. She decided to bring out a scalpel, forceps, and tweezers in case she had to reopen a wound. She was so focused on her task that she didn’t hear the shower turn off nor the bathroom door opening and closing. 

“Ready for me?” 

She jumped, dropping the metal instruments she had just grabbed. Bloody hell… 

He caught them before they hit the ground and set them on the rolling table with the other medical supplies. He pulled himself onto the stool she had brought out. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“It’s okay.” She pulled on a new pair of latex gloves. “Let’s just get started.” Turning around, she noticed right away why he’d been limping. 

From the knee down, it looked as though he’d been standing within a few yards of an explosion. His skin was beginning its healing process, but she could spot small pieces of metal buried within the flesh. His clenched jaw showed that he could feel the pain, but she couldn’t even begin to wonder how he’d walked the miles he did… 

“Oh my God…how…” 

“Tried running through an abandoned minefield with an unconscious man on my back,” He responded dryly. “The pain’s easier to ignore when I was trudging through snow.” 

“Would you like some painkillers before I start?” 

“Painkillers don’t work on me Jemma,” He said tiredly. “You can start…whenever you’re ready.” 

She picked up the scalpel and took a breath before kneeling in front of the injured leg. Starting at the knee, she made an incision around a shard of metal and pulled it out, setting it in the tin on the floor. “Do you want me to stitch these up?” 

His voice showed no hints of pain or anything when he replied. “Affirmative.” 

Ignoring the chill that his emotionless voice caused, she continued down his leg, pulling out shards of metal of all sizes. The pile was an alarming size when she started stitching up the larger cuts she made. She knew that it wouldn’t matter, but she applied a layer a disinfectant to the continually healing burns. She then applied Vaseline to the more severe areas before wrapping the leg in clean gauze. “Okay…all done.” 

It took Jemma a moment to realize that Barnes wasn’t truly present. His blue eyes were glazed over and distant, his body as still as a statue. She knew of agents who could distance themselves from pain for periods of time, but this spoke of a lifetime of painful memories and experiences that he retreated so far inward as to forget his surroundings… to forget himself. She removed her gloves and placed a gentle hand on his thigh, feeling the rigid muscles underneath. “Barnes…come back.” 

A shudder went through his body and he seemed to return to himself. “Are you finished?” 

Well…almost, she thought as he spoke with that flat voice. “Yeah…are there any other injuries that won’t heal within a few hours?” 

“Negative.” 

He still wasn’t entirely present and for a split second Jemma feared that he would revert to the weapon she heard stories about. She made sure to stand up slowly and purposefully as to seem nonthreatening. Those eyes were on her again, but when she looked up, there was nothing. Jemma almost thought about the sedatives sitting in the medical cabinet, but remembered his comment about painkillers and figured it would take a large amount to have any effect on him… A few shots from her ICER could probably do it, but her ICER was sitting on a shelf across the lab… 

Relax Jemma…you need to relax…She forced all thoughts of subduing him from her mind. He hadn’t even shown a hint of hostility towards her and she was thinking about knocking him out. Taking a steadying breath, she picked up the used instruments and threw them in the biohazard waste container, along with the metal shards and gloves. She rinsed out the tin and disinfected it before washing down the rolling table and finally finishing with her hands, all the while aware of the eyes burning holes into the back of her head. 

He’d made no move to get off the stool or say much of anything, the humming and whirling from his metal arm the only sound she could hear. It was unsettling to say the least, so Jemma walked over to the stereo sitting on the shelf and clicked play. She wasn’t surprised to hear smooth jazz, something that Coulson usually pulled out if Captain Rogers ever stopped by. Seemed to be the case with Barnes as well… 

His flat expression faltered and the rigidness melted away with a warm smile that had her heart racing when he turned to face her. Those blue eyes were bright as he stood up and walked over to her as if she hadn’t just stitched up his leg. “Care to dance?” 

_Seriously?_ “Seriously?” She couldn’t help but blurt out. The abrupt mood change was confusing to say the least. 

His smile only widened. “Come on doll.” 

“I’m not a…I can’t dance.” She stuttered out, cursing her pale skin as blood rushed to the surface. 

“I’m a good teacher.” He was standing in front of her now. “One dance won’t hurt.” 

Knowing she would regret it, she took his proffered hand. She let out a surprised squeal when he spun her around and she found him lifting her off the ground moments later. She should’ve been concerned for the millions of dollars in laboratory equipment and medical instruments surrounding them, but all she could was the genuine smile on his face when she let out a joyous laugh. Jemma let herself be guided and it felt like another time or a dream… 

When the song ended, his arms were wrapped around her waist while hands were flat against his chest. His heartbeat and breathing were both steady while her own were erratic and out of control. She returned his smile with a nervous one of her own and she tried to back away, but he seemed to sense her nervousness and tightened his hold, his brow furrowed. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s just…” She forced herself to look away from his smoldering gaze. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Skye was leaning against the doorframe, a gleam in her dark eyes as she took in Jemma’s proximity to Barnes. She smiled when Jemma choked on her explanation before looking at him. “Director Coulson would like to debrief you when you’re finished here.” 

He nodded and stepped back, bringing her hands to his lips. “Another time Miss Simmons.” 

Her hand tingled as it dropped to her side and she offered a smile. “Another time Mister Barnes.” 

The door had just shut behind when Skye let out a happy squeal of her own. “You need to tell me everything and I mean everything about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious.” 

Jemma could’ve sworn she heard a laugh from the other side of the door and she stifled the urge to groan. This was going to be a long day…


	10. Mordred's Lullaby (Medieval Fantasy AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by Heather Dale.

Receiving a summons, The Winter Soldier made his way down the corridor and waited at the foot of the throne. The woman occupying it placed a cold hand on his shoulder, his entire body stiffening as her magic seeped into his body and mind with the pain of a thousand needles.

“I have a task for you.” 

He looked up at her Highness, the Lady Hydra, in the silence that followed. She was beautiful with dark ebony locks framing a heart-shaped face and full red lips, but the beauty ended with the poisonous green eyes that held a darkness that even an assassin such as himself found unsettling. “What would you have me do?” 

She gracefully got her feet, the fabric of her dress dragging along the floor. She traced her nails along his jaw and pressed them against his neck before sliding down to his right shoulder and using her magic to force him to kneel. “That’s better…” 

“What is the task?” He forced himself to stay calm, to keep his face expressionless. 

“I have located our dear Captain.” A cold smile curled her lips. “I want you to bring him to me…preferably alive.” 

“Understood, Your Highness.” 

“You may go my Soldier.” 

He stood, leaving the throne room and taking a left at the end of the corridor. Making his way down the stairs, he opened the heavy wooden door to the armory, thankful that it was empty as he removed his daily attire. This exposed the gleaming metal of his left arm. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was made from or how it was done. Anything from the procedure and his life before that was buried beneath magic. The only likely conclusion was that the Lady Hydra had performed the procedure and it was here magic that made everything work. 

He pulled on the dark fabric that adhered to his body like a second skin, followed by the compartments that he strapped around his torso and arms and his boots. After slipping each blade into their appropriate places in the straps and one in each boot, he finished with the black robe that covered the weapons and his arm. He drew the hood over his head before leaving the armory and making his way outside, ignoring the looks from passing guards and servants. 

There was a horse saddled and ready for him when he reached the stables. The stable boy handed him a slip of paper written in elegant scrawl. Opening the paper, he read the contents before giving the paper back to the boy and leaving the stables at a gallop. 

The trip itself was uneventful other than the annoyance that was the cold winds that hinted at a coming storm. He stopped a few times to water the horse and take a swig from the pouch attached to the saddle. He pulled the hood tighter around his face as he approached the outskirts of a village. 

The intel said that the Captain would be staying a small inn with his wife-to-be and about a handful of guards. Tying the horse to a small shed, he walked down the street. There were two guards posted at the front door. The wooded area behind the inn provided adequate cover as he determined that there were two guards at the back door and one walking the parameter. 

As the parameter guard approached, he pulled a knife from one of his boots. He waited patiently until the guard at the furthest corner of the property, slicing the man’s throat in one quick movement. He lowered the body to the ground and wiped the blade on the grass. While he crouched, he picked up a handful of pebble and tossed it within arm’s length of his hiding spot. 

The guard was within feet of him when a metal hand wrapped around his throat and crushed it. Before the other guard could alert it, the dagger pierced the man’s throat and embedded in the wall, keeping the body from falling. 

Pulling another dagger, he held it loosely in his hand as he quietly opened the back door. He was only slightly shocked to find a young woman seated at a table with his back to him, writing with a charcoal stick. She would alert the others to his presence. The hand that held the dagger trembled slightly. For some reason, a flash of an older dark-haired woman with blue eyes came to his mind. His attempt to figure out who caused an ache in his temple so he gave up and let the image fade. 

He despised killing women. It had only happened twice because they had forced his hands. This woman did nothing wrong except be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was within a foot of her, the dagger raised. 

“Are you here to kill the Captain?” Her accent told him she was from one of the Northern Kingdoms. What was she doing this far South? A more important question would be how did she hear him coming? 

He gripped the dagger tightly. "How did you-?" 

She stood up and faced him, her eyes flashing gold, the tell-tale sign of a sorceress. "I could sense that vile woman's magic from a mile away." She motioned to his robe. "You can take the robe off now Soldier." 

He could sense her magic, its warmth akin to the roaring fireplace on the other side of the room. He didn't flinch as it surrounded him...not really thinking it through as he removed the robe and folded it over the edge of the chair. 

"I've heard stories of Hydra's most dangerous assassin with an enchanted metal arm." She laid a hand over his left hand, her touch gentle. "Her magic runs a lot deeper than that though...doesn't it?" Her hazel eyes looked up at him. 

"Get away from her!" He stiffened as the voice came from the foot of the stairway. The command had the opposite effect though as he wrapped his metal arm around her waist, a dagger pressed to the smooth column of her throat. "Bucky?" The source of the voice came from a blonde man and he looked...familiar. Why would he look familiar? His head ached as he tried to remember...the man was from before the procedure. That could be the reason... "I don’t know who...I don't know who that is." 

Her hand reached up to his temple. She gently forced him to let her go and drop the knife. _You pour soul_...her voice echoed in his head... _what did she do to you?_ Her magic seeped into his body and mind, slowly wiping away the darkness that had always seemed to envelop him. _Remember who you are..._ He stumbled back, all those painful images hidden behind a veil of magic were now crystal clear. His name was James 'Bucky' Barnes...he had three sisters (Rebecca, Sarah, and Abigail), a mother (Elizabeth) and a friend (Steve). He looked up at the Captain... _Steve._ "Steve?" 

The young woman stepped away before Steve wrapped his arms around his friend. "I'm so glad you're alive." 

He looked over his friend’s shoulder, meeting the young woman's eyes. He knew that Lady Hydra would come to take him back...come after his friends and family. No one else would die at his hand, except for that monster who had used him against his will. Then he could finally be free.


	11. Love Me Like You Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by Ellie Goulding.

James “Bucky” Barnes may have been one of the most feared assassins in the world and could sneak up on anybody, but Jemma knew the moment he entered the room. She was currently studying some blood samples from the last Enhanced they’d encountered and the hairs on the back of her neck rose as she turned to meet icy blue eyes. “Hello, James.”

He was standing at the end of the lab table, his expression not as vacant as he would have others believe as his lips twitched in a semblance of a smile. “Hey, Jemma.” 

“What brings you to my lab?” She returned to the microscope. 

His flesh hand began playing with her high ponytail, but he didn’t respond. 

She didn’t really expect a response. He hardly spoke unless it was with Steve or he was on a mission. So the few times she could get him to talk were always precious to her. About to adjust the magnification, she felt his hand run down the side of her neck. There was no doubt he could feel her rising pulse as he traced patterns on her skin. She smiled to herself…where he was sparse with words, he made up for it with gentle touches, always with his right hand. He kept her contact with his metal arm to the minimum, which was why she was surprised to feel his left hand settle in her hip and pull her against him. She knew where this was headed… 

“James, I have to get these samples analyzed for Coulson.” 

Both arms were now wrapped around her waist, his lips brushing over her racing pulse. “Analyze ‘em later.” 

She half-heartedly tried to pull away from him, gasping as his teeth grazed the skin. “James…” Jemma fought the urge to lean back into him, holding onto the microscope with a white knuckled grip as she unsuccessfully tried to pull back to her work. “James please…” 

“Please what?” His whispered in her ear, teeth lightly nipping at her earlobe. 

Now his hold on her was the only thing keeping Jemma from sinking to the floor. Jemma stopped protesting, pressing her body fully against him. Any conscious thought went out of her head as she was spun around one second, her squeal of surprise swallowed by his lips on hers. 

Her arms immediately wound around his neck, breathing in his familiar scent of leather and stale cigarette smoke as her lips parted beneath his. Jemma felt the cool metal wrap cup her jaw, his hand loosened her hair from its confines as her lab coat slipped from her shoulders onto the floor. 

“You gonna tell me what ya want doll?” Stubble lightly grazes over the skin of her neck. 

She lets out a shaky breath, nails digging into his neck as he captured her lips in a bruising kiss. She found her back hitting the wall, his fingers lightly trailing down the column of her neck, the curve of her spine, finally resting on the curve of her hips as he pulled her forwards. This gave her enough leverage to wrap her legs around his waist. 

He pulled back with that stupid smirk of his. “Eager are we?” 

She ground her hips against his, a growl rumbling through his chest as she took his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged, his grip on her hips painful. Jemma would never say so though and began undoing the straps and buckles of his Kevlar vest as he deftly unbuttoned her blouse, both pulling back only long enough to shrug the layer of clothing off. 

He spun them around again, seating her on one of the counters in the lab. An empty beaker was knocked off, shattering as it hit the floor. 

Jemma knew they should stop before anything else broke or someone walked in, but then he pulled his shirt over his head and she became distracted once more as his lips latched onto her neck. She ran her hands over the wide expanse of muscle, dragging her nails down his back to gain purchase on anything when his teeth replaced his lips. He pulled her camisole off, his lips trailing between her breasts and the smooth planes of her stomach down to the waistline of her pants, chuckling as she gasped and arched into his touch, knocking yet another glass object off the counter in the process. 

Tangling her fingers in his hair, she dragged his mouth back to hers for a hard kiss. She splayed her hands over his chest, feeling the pulse beneath his sternum. Her fingertips traced the outlines of every muscle; the trapezius, the pectoralis major, the external oblique, rectus abdominal…her lips followed the same path. She felt his entire body lock as she ran her hands over the scar tissue connecting the metal arm to his body. Most scar tissue was deadened to feeling, but Jemma had discovered that on him it were the exact opposite. 

She pressed her lips to the toughened skin, where she felt his entire body shudder. She smiled as his metal hand began to dent the table and when her teeth grazed over it, a moan escaped his lips. His only freed hand once again pulled her mouth to his. 

“Don’t tease me doll,” He gasped as she bucked her hips against his, the metal hand feeling heavenly on her heated skin as he brought her chest to his. His heartbeat was almost as erratic as hers… His lips sucked on the pulse in her neck. “You won’t like my response.” 

“Who said I was teasing you love?” 

He smiled against her neck, lightly pressing his mouth to the forming mark. His next kiss was surprisingly gentle, almost achingly so, as he parted her lips with his tongue. He tasted of vodka and something else…something dark and sensual…and James… 

A choked sound from the doorway had them both freezing, Jemma more so than James. 

Director Coulson and Steve Rogers were standing in the entrance to the lab, the former wearing an expression akin to shock while the latter was smiling as he clapped Coulson on the shoulder. “See Director? Told ya they were fine.” 

Jemma hid her face in James’ chest, utterly mortified at the position they’d found themselves in. She prided herself at keeping any and all distractions at bay while working, but now all she could focus on was the cool metal hand on her back and the taste of vodka lingering on her tongue… 

“Cat got ya tongue Director?” James drawled. 

Steve laughed.


	12. Mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by Brooke Fraiser.

Jemma’s mind drifted as she worked on the samples that Coulson had given her that afternoon. Since James Buchanan Barnes stumbled onto the base with Captain America almost two weeks ago after a disastrous mission, Jemma couldn’t get him out of her mind. After the shouting match with Coulson, the Captain and Barnes (mostly the Captain) decided to lay low for a while. The two supersoldiers couldn’t have been more different.

Captain Rogers was like a magnet of light, people gravitated toward the Brooklyn drawl and easy smiles. He filled the room with his presence and at one point had even got May to spar with him. He answered all the questions he could and would tell stories about the Avengers if asked. He was as honest and open as he was kind. 

Barnes was a wraith, omnipresent and silent. Everyone, except the Captain, avoided going near him. It wasn’t a conscious thing. It was the aura surrounding him… the energy coming off him that triggered something ingrained deep in their DNA, that told them that there was a predator in their midst and that they should stay clear of him. His expressions ranged from scared to angry to confused to nothing. It was the nothing that scared them more than anything. 

Jemma had always thought that eyes were windows to the soul, but what happened when there wasn’t anything there? She wanted to get a better picture of this man, but he actively avoided the labs or scientists which usually meant her and Fitz. 

“Don’t take it too personally,” Steve told them. “Scientists and doctors make him skittish.” 

Both nodded in understanding, knowing what HYDRA would do for scientific exploration and just plain curiosity. Skye’s mother and Agent 33 were just two examples that came to mind. Obviously, neither were fun to think about… 

Another nearly two weeks without a glimpse of him made it pretty clear she shouldn’t expect him to approach her at all. That was fine by her, she thought, she could focus on more important things like matching blood samples to the Asset Register if they weren’t already in the system. 

Once completed, she finally looked at the time. 3:37 am. Bloody fantastic… She pulled off the gloves and mask, throwing them in the biohazard container before hanging her lab coat on a rack. She pulled her hair out of its confines, getting rid the tangles she always seemed to get. Slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder, she shut off the lights and made sure the door was locked before leaving. 

Not surprisingly, the kitchen was vacant as she made her way to the cabinets and grabbed a bag of what she knew was chamomile tea. She turned on the stove and filled the kettle with water before pulling one the mugs down. After pulling her worn copy of Pride and Prejudice from her bag and setting it on the table nearest the stove, she switched on the lights…And stifled a scream as a figure materialized from the far corner, looking like a startled animal. 

His expression flickered between confusion and fear, the bruise-colored bags beneath his blue eyes showing how little he’d been sleeping. His chin length hair was haphazardly pulled back at the base of his skull, and he was clean shaven. That was a new development… 

“ _Kto ty?_ ” His voice was gravelly. 

“I’m sorry…I don’t speak Russian.” 

He blinked a few times, still confused, and took a step toward her. “ _Qui es-tu?_ ” 

Jemma shook her head, confused as well. She knew he could speak English, had heard the few words spoken to the Captain. First Russian and now French. He almost appeared frustrated at the words that left his mouth… Was his brain not allowing to speak English? Curiouser and curiouser… 

The silence was broken as the kettle whistled. Going off of his confused expression, he probably wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Putting the bag in a mug, she poured the hot water in and stirred it with a spoon, leaving the heat of the stove on low. 

“Can you speak Gaelic?” She watched his brow furrow. “ _Ciamar a tha thu?_ ” 

Gaelic, or more specific Scottish Gaelic, wasn’t a language commonly spoken outside of the UK, but Jemma had had Fitz teach her throughout their years at the Academy given that he had a tendency to switch from Gaelic to English and back again. It was the only other language she knew other than her native English and Jemma hoped he understood her or else she would be at a loss… 

“ _Cé tusa?_ ” 

Irish dialect then…interesting. She wasn’t as fluent in it as she was in Scottish, but she understood his question. _Who are you?_ Did he really not know? He and Captain Rogers had been here for almost two weeks…but then again he’d avoided her and Fitz from the beginning. So he wouldn’t have a face to the name… “My name is Jemma…Jemma Simmons.” 

He froze, clearly recognizing her name. He didn’t leave like she thought he would, instead staring at her with those piercing eyes that were probably cataloging her strengths and weaknesses. 

She knew she wasn’t physically intimating like May, Bobbi, or Skye. Her strength was her intelligence. She’d been sparring with Skye (Daisy now) and had picked up skills, but nothing that would ever come close to the Winter Soldier. He could break her with one hit of that metal arm… 

Forcing her hands not to shake, she took a drink of her tea, realizing too late how hot it still was. After another minute of silence, she decided to pick up her book. Jemma could feel his eyes on her for in the minutes following and even the calming effects of the chamomile wouldn’t slow down her pounding heart. 

“ _A dochtúir?_ ” 

“Biochemist…if you want to be more specific.” She didn’t know if that made a difference to him, but she did know that her background of biology and human anatomy could trigger that blank expression and that blank expression could equal a metal hand around her throat. It was difficult to tell… “I’m not going to hurt you, James…if that’s what you’re worried about.” She drank the last of her tea and went to stand up again, mug in hand. “Would you like some tea?” 

He stared at the mug in her hand and then the kettle on the stove. “Yes.” 

She turned to pull another mug from the shelf, smiling to herself at the flicker of relief in his eyes. Grabbing two more tea bags, she turned up the heat and only had to wait about a minute until the kettle began to whistle. Filling both mugs, she turned to set them down stop suddenly when he appeared right behind her. She hissed in pain, a muttered curse slipping out as the water scaled her hands, and let go of the mugs. 

He caught them before they could break, the hot liquid sloshing over the sides clearly not bothering him in the slightest. He set the mugs back onto the counter as she ran her burned hands under cold water. “I…I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine. You just startled me is all.” The water felt great running through her fingers. “Not the first time I’ve done it.” She could tell though, that some areas of the burns were second degree and would require more than just cold water. Shoot… 

For the next fifteen minutes, the only sound was the water going down the drain. Drying her hands the best she could, Jemma opened the cabinet under the sink with her foot and crouched down to grab the first aid kit. Seconds later she realized curling her fingers around the handle was going to be difficult. Positioning the box between her forearms, she held it tightly as she stood up. 

He’d set the mugs down and looked like he wanted to help. It seemed to take him a moment to convince himself that she couldn’t actually do anything with her burned hands and took the box with his metal hand. 

Her numbed hands were starting to throb painfully and Jemma watched him open the kit. She held her hands as still as she could while he assessed the burns and the contents, pulling out antibiotic ointment, elastic bandages, and a small pair of scissors to cut them. She appreciated the gentleness he used over the second-degree burns as he applied the antibiotic ointment and the fact that he only used his metal hand to steady her arm (it would’ve felt awful on the burned skin). “Have you done this before?” 

He paused while wrapped the bandage expertly between her fingers. “Too many times.” 

The bandaging was finished in silence and her eyes followed him as he threw away the used supplies, replaced the scissors, and placed two Ibuprofen in the palm of her hand. She swallowed them dry and while he returned the kit under the sink, she dumped the now lukewarm water and threw away the used tea bags before grabbing two more and placing them in the empty mugs. 

“What are you doing?” 

She didn’t freak out as his voice came from directly her. Jemma didn’t turn around as she reached for the kettle. A warm hand closed lightly around her wrist. Finally, she met his eyes, noticing that being this close she could see flecks of gray within the icy blue, reminding her of the cloudy skies over her childhood home in Sheffield. “I’m making us tea.” 

“You burned yourself.” 

“I know…that shouldn’t stop me from making it. You said you wanted some.” 

He let go of her hand and at this distance, the disbelief that widened his eyes was noticeable. He poured the water into the mugs himself, not allowing her to do anything as he moved them to the counter. 

If she didn’t know any better, Jemma would say he was worried. When she reached out to grab it, he stopped her and held the mug in his metal hand to absorb the worst of the heat. “Just let me hold it. I’m fine.” 

He sighed. “Clearly.” 

“Can I have my tea please?” 

His mouth quirked down, but he slid the drink over anyways. He practically glared at the mug as she lifted it to her mouth as if it would attack her if he looked away. Satisfied she wasn’t going to burn herself again, he took a tentative sip. 

Both finished in silence and Jemma set the mugs in the sink. Turning around, she found him putting her book back into her bag and allowed him to slip the strap onto her shoulder. Her thanks was answered with a single nod and when she returned to her quarter, she felt his presence behind her. Letting the bag fall to the floor, she kicked off her shoes and fell asleep minutes after she laid down. 

When Jemma woke up the next morning to a glass of water and two more Ibuprofen on her bedside table, she smiled. _You are a mystery James Barnes…quite the mystery indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Kto ty?_ \- Who are you?  
>  _Qui es-tu?_ \- Who are you?  
>  _Ciamar a tha thu?_ -Hello, how are you?  
>  _Cé tusa?_ \- Who are you?  
>  _Dochtúir_ \- Doctor


	13. I'll Be Home For Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its late, but Merry Christmas to all of my readers! Hope you like it!

Jemma stared out the frosted window of their New York apartment, nursing yet another cup of tea. Her parents had given up trying to pull her into a conversation, realizing just why she was so anxious. It was Christmas Eve and James still hadn’t returned from his mission with Steve. She’d told her parents it was some last minute security emergency (they thought he worked private security) and tried to reach him, even knowing that this mission required radio silence.

James (and Steve) had apologized for it as they left. Jemma had told them it was fine, but she knew that James saw right through it. He’d actually been looking forward to spending time with her parents and she’d told her parents that he would be coming. She knew she shouldn’t be worried. Both men could handle themselves and both could heal from their injuries, but worrying was in her nature. She didn’t like being in the dark on anything… 

Moving away from the window, she walked over to the fireplace and bent to add another piece of wood to the fire. She watched the flames lick at the bark, the mirage of yellow and orange light almost distracting her from her worry. Setting her mug on the coffee table, she reached for the small red box sitting on the mantle. Her present to him. 

Setting the box back down, she picked up the empty mug and walked back into the kitchen to fill it up once more, and saw that her mum had pulled out the apple cider. Ignoring her parents’ raised eyebrow, she pulled out a bottle of rum from the liquor cabinet and added a splash to the steaming cup, hoping that the alcohol would calm her nerves. 

The clock read 8:30 pm and Jemma once again found herself standing at the window, her red nails _clink_ ing against the glass. It had started to snow and Jemma longed to step out onto the balcony, but she knew she would regret it as soon as the cold wind howled outside. 

The alcohol was slowly warming her from the inside and her nerves weren’t quite as frayed. She played with the hem of her deep maroon dress, feeling the smooth silk slid between her fingers. Jemma had pulled out this dress from the back of her wardrobe as a surprise for James since he hardly ever saw her dressed up like this. She’d taken off the heels almost an hour ago, but decided to slip them back on. No matter on tall they were, she would always be smaller than his six-foot frame. 

At the sound of the door opening, a wave of relief washed over her. Setting down the mug, she ran before her parents had even registered that there was someone at the door. She wrapped her arms around him and he spun her around as if she weighed nothing. “I’m so glad you’re here!” 

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her hair and set her down. “It’s good to see you too sweetheart.” He stepped back, dark blue eyes raking down her form. “So beautiful…” Jemma blushed as she guided him over to her parents, keeping herself glued to his left side. She didn’t really have time to explain the metal arm to them. She watched him converse with her parents as if he’d known them forever. She leaning her head against the unyielding metal, listening to the soothing sound of whirring components in his arm. She’d hadn’t seen him this open in a while and it warmed her heart to hear a loud laugh burst from his lips at one of her father’s stories. Jemma took this chance to finally look at him. 

He was wearing black slacks and a long sleeve, light blue button up (a color he _knew_ made his eyes more gorgeous…) with the tops three buttons undone and actual dress shoes instead of the combat boots he always wore. He’d pulled his hair back and shaved. 

She knew, though, that even with all the effort he’d put into coming here, he was as much a walking arsenal in the casual clothing as he was in his tactical gear. That part of him would never change…and she didn’t want it to. She always felt safe around him… 

“Time for gifts!” Her mother clapped her hands together. 

James stiffened and Jemma looked over and the small fear of him reverting to the Soldier in front of her parents was shoved to the back of her mind. Other than a nightmare or two he was getting better. “Are you alright?” 

The spark of nervousness was now replaced with that charming grin. “’m al’right doll.” 

She just smiled. He was definitely hiding something and as she watched him give a Russian porcelain tea set to her parents and him receive a bottle of imported Scotch in return, he was the charismatic Brooklyn boy from the 40s. He wouldn’t slip up again. 

Stepping away from him, she went to the mantle and picked up the small red box. With a smile, she placed it in his right hand. Even though they’d agreed they wouldn’t do gifts, he wasn’t surprised. Jemma watched his face as he gently removed the lid with his gloved left hand. 

Buying gifts for an ex-Soviet assassin was a little difficult…okay it was _really_ difficult. It was Steve that helped her out with the gift. The rectangular locket was platinum, with a soft non-reflective finish and their names engraved on the back. He brushed his thumb along the engravings. “Jemma…” 

“Open it.” 

There was only a single picture. It was from their first date when she’d drug him into a photo booth. It was the picture of their first kiss… 

“I figured you could put it on the same chain as your dog tags…something to have when you’re not here.” 

“I love it…” He pulled her into a hug, kissing her forehead. “Thank you, Jemma.” 

She found herself unable to reply as James placed a small velvet box in her hand. Jemma slowly opened it and put a hand to her mouth the light twinkled off the diamonds set in the shape of Ursae Minoris or more commonly The North Star. She removed it from the box, the silver chain glittering in the fire’s glow. “Oh, James…it beautiful.” 

He took from her hands and came to stand behind her. Lifting her hair away from her neck, she could the combined coolness and warmth of his hands as he did the clasp and Jemma let her hair fall back. His hands trailed along the curve of her neck as he leaned to whisper in her. “You are my North Star Jemma…you’ve been my guiding light in the dark and I will never be able to thank you enough.” 

With tears threatening to spill from her eyes, Jemma ignored her parents’ presence and pulled him into a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, delighting in the fact that she could his heart pounding through her own chest. Pulling back, she wiped away the smudges of her red lipstick away and smiled up at him. “Thank you, James.” 

It took them both a moment to remember that her parents were standing off to the side, their expressions those of proud parents. 

Jemma pulled away with a bright blush, watching her mother wrap James in a tight hug followed by a firm handshake from her dad (that was a lot for him). With hugs and kisses and ‘Merry Christmases’, she bid both of her parents goodnight. 

His kiss after they’d left had her grasping for a single rational thought as he pressed her against the door. His right hand reached the zipper of her dress. “I’ve thinking of peeling you out of this dress since I got here.” 

“Then what are you waiting for, Sergeant?” She began to undo the buttons, exposing more of his warm skin to her touch. She looked up at him, a bold smirk on her lips. “Get me out of this dress then.” 

The smile he gave her was absolutely predatory, blue eyes black with desire as he replied in the Brooklyn drawl that made her knees weak. “Yes Ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologoze for the lack of pictures. I'm still trying to figure out how that works... Until next time :)


	14. The Devil's Backbone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by The Civil Wars.

Being an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., there was little that could really shock Jemma anymore. Which is why when she made a last minute trip to her childhood home in Sheffield on personal time, she was stunned to find herself held at gunpoint as soon as she walked through the front door.

The lights were turned off, so the only identifiable features of the man holding the gun were his height and impressive muscular build. Many things told her this man was a trained killer, but the hand holding the gun trembled slightly. Something was wrong… 

“What is your business here?” 

His voice was oddly devoid of an identifying accent or dialect. “My…my parents, Elizabeth and Scott Simmons, live here. I’m their daughter Jemma.” 

The barrel of the gun was now pressed to her temple. “No one was due back for another two days…What is your business here?” 

“I was just visiting. I had personal time.” She took a breath and recognized the faint coppery scent that hinted at a large amount of blood. He was injured… She turned her gaze to the floor, noticing the dark stain on the tile that nearly blended with the shadows. 

The gun was lowered and a moment later her wrists were being bound in front of her. One hand was colder than the other and wasn’t flesh and bone…a prosthetic? That hand forced her shoulders down so she sat on the couch, the gun now occupying a holster on his thigh. He was just looming over her now, head cocked to the side as she stared back unafraid. 

She worried her lips as she now tried to find the point of injury. He wasn’t favoring one leg over the other, eliminating his legs. He could raise and lower his arms…his arms and shoulders were alright. He could speak coherently and clearly, leaving out his head and neck. So the injury must be to his chest or stomach, neither option would be good if he stayed on his feet much longer. “What are you doing here?” 

Silence. 

“You’re injured, right? Is that why you’re here?” 

The gun was in her face again. “Shut up!” 

“Okay…okay, I will.” She held her bound hands in front of her. “I just want to help.” 

“No one wants to help me!” He growled, pressing the gun under her chin. “I’m a _chudovishche_!” 

This close, Jemma could finally see his face. She knew she should’ve been worried about the barrel against her skin, but all she could focus on were his eyes. She’d never seen a shade of blue so dark nor eyes so full of anguish. It felt like a physical thing, the pain he radiated. Only she could feel for a man holding her bound and at gunpoint. Her empathic nature was going to be the death of her… “I want to help you.” 

He growled something in the guttural language, most likely Russian, and the safety clicked off. Those dark eyes were full of panic. He was going to kill her… 

She wasn’t the only one shocked when he swayed on his feet and stumbled back. The gun clattered to the floor as he collapsed to the ground, the wooden coffee table splintering under his weight. 

The room was silent as she slowly and shakily got to her feet. A piece of wood noisily slid across the floor and Jemma froze. She sighed in relief when he didn’t react, but then realized that she shouldn’t be relieved to see a man bleeding out on the living room floor. She kneeled next to him and placed her hands on his neck, feeling the sluggish pulse. 

Making her way into the kitchen, she pulled a knife from the block and began sawing at the tightly knotted rope. Rubbing some of the feeling back into her hands, Jemma walked back over to the man. 

He was literally a walking arsenal. He had two guns strapped to each thigh, a combat knife in each boot and who knows how many daggers. Beneath the brown leather jacket and ratty red hoodie was a Kevlar vest and multiple gunshot wounds to his stomach. God… 

Knowing she didn’t have the strength to lift the dead weight (he was at least two hundred plus pounds of solid muscle), she grabbed the fabric shears from her mum’s sewing kit and cut open the hoodie. Given that the bullet had perforated the vest, his pursuers must’ve been using armor piercing rounds. She cut away the ruined vest as well. 

She hurried back into the kitchen and grabbed the first aid kit out from beneath the sink. She kneeled next to him once again, turned on one of the table lamps, and pulled on the latex gloves. She cleaned away the blood with a damp kitchen rag and was surprised to find a healing slash across his lower abdomen. Did this man have advanced healing? 

Well, she thought as she removed the first bullet, not the strangest thing I’ve seen. 

She had stitched up the first and moved onto the second when she heard an odd mechanical sound coming from his left arm. She stitched up the second wound before cautiously pulling up the sleeve. 

His arm was made entirely made of metal plating from his fingertips to the shoulder joint (after running prodding fingers up the extremity). Other than a few scuffs and what looked like electrical scorching marks, the metal was otherwise intact. 

It was the metal arm that finally gave Jemma the identity she’d been searching for. This man was the Winter Soldier. She remembered the footage that Skye had showed her of the man fighting Captain America, but this man on the floor was so different from that…machine that had fought to kill. This man now was afraid…from what she didn’t know. 

Pulling down the sleeve, she returned to stitch up the final bullet wound. Using the entire roll of gauze and bandages, she wrapped him up. Pulling off the latex gloves, she grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over him and fashioned a cushion into a pillow before curling up on her dad’s recliner and falling asleep. 

……………………………… 

She woke up before sunrise, sparing a glance at the still unconscious man before filling the kettle with water and turning on the stove. After pulling a cup and tea bag from the cabinet, she found one of the kitchen knives pressed to her throat. She froze immediately. 

“Who do you work for?” 

“Why-why would you ask that?” She didn’t try to hide her nervousness. 

“Why else would you want me alive?” 

“Because I don’t like seeing a man bleed out on my parent’s living room floor.” 

“Who. Do. You. Work. For?” He spun her around and the metal hand replace the knife as he held her against the stove, the heat at her back from the burner incentive. “Don’t make me ask again.” 

“S.H.I.E.L.D. I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.” She tried to shy away from the heat, but he held firm. “I work for Director Phil Coulson.” 

He let her go. “HYDRA wants him dead.” 

The kettle started whistling so Jemma pulled it off and poured the water into the cup. Without even thinking, she grabbed another cup and tea bag and poured water in it as well. She began to stir both cups with spoons. “A lot of people want him dead.” She turned and held out a cup to him. “Tea?” 

He was suspicious. 

She took a large drink of one, wincing as the hot liquid burned her tongue. “See? Not poisoned.” She held the out she just drank from. “Would you rather have coffee?” 

Not answering the question, he took the cup from her hand and tentatively took a sip. 

As she drank her tea, Jemma looked over the bandages and was relieved to see no blood soaking through. Her relief was quickly overshadowed by curiosity as she realized she could see the metal arm in its entirety in the early morning light. Jemma, the scientist she was, could see that he had control over the metal as if it were his own and was intrigued by the composition of the metal. The extensive scarring around the shoulder joint, though, told her that he probably wasn’t a willing participant. 

“You done starin’?” 

She was intrigued by the drawl that was distinctly American and blushed at the raised eyebrow. Cursing her fair skin, she turned to set the cup in the sink. “Sorry…I was just-” 

“It’s fine.” His voice, although warmer, had suddenly lost the accent she’d just heard. “Used to it.” 

“I shouldn’t stare, though. It’s not any of my business.” 

When he didn’t say anything, Jemma turned to find him right behind her. She jumped at his nearness and the expression he was currently giving her was analytical. He’d probably already dismissed her as a threat…so why was he looking at her like that? 

“You know who I am?” He loomed over her much smaller stature. 

“The Winter Soldier.” Jemma replied. 

His brow furrowed. “You’re not afraid of me?” 

“I am a little…having my life threatened might be part of it.” 

“You’re kidding right?” He clenched his jaw. “I would’ve killed you last night.” 

“I know.” She walked around him and grabbed the cup from the kitchen table. “You aren’t the first person who’s tried to kill me and you won’t be the last. It’s part of being-” 

He held up a hand, his head tilted. 

“What is it?” 

In response, he pulled a gun from the holster and held it out to her. 

No other questions were asked as she took it and she immediately crouched behind the kitchen counter as he walked ahead. Jemma just prayed that the house didn’t take more damage because she already needed to replace the coffee table… 

Gunfire like thunder began to shake the house and Jemma listened to the intruders’ screams and cries of agony suddenly cut off with gurgling breaths. No more than a few minutes later everything fell silent. Tightening her grip on the gun, she looked around the corner and into the living room. 

The Winter Soldier stood amid at least a dozen bodies with a gun in his hand, but the older man in front of him was speaking to him softly in Russian, completely unafraid. The hand holding the gun was shaking but wouldn’t rise. It looked as though the older man was controlling him. 

During her short time undercover at HYDRA, she knew that they liked to be able to control their assets any way they could and weren’t above brainwashing to do it. Jemma knew she would have to do something fast or the man she’d come to know would be turned back into the weapon he’d been all those months ago. Without even thinking twice, Jemma rose smoothly to her feet, aimed the gun, and pulled the trigger… 

Blood sprayed the wall behind the man as he slumped to the ground with a bullet to the head. The body landed on the broken remains of the table, startling the Winter Soldier out of his struggle. 

A metal hand lowered hers and it took a moment to realize she now had the shaking gun aimed at him. She handed him the gun without a word, her eyes finding the man she’d killed. His face was frozen in shock, blood sluggishly trickling from the hole in his head. 

He obstructed her view, trying to get her to meet his eyes. “Hey…It’s okay Jemma. Jemma look at me. Focus on me…” 

She finally met his eyes, tears in her own. “I killed him…” 

“I know…I know…” That soothing lilt was back in his voice. “Just keep lookin’ at me Jemma…only at me.” 

She fell into him when her legs went out from under her, savoring the warmth radiating from his bare chest. She was sobbing now, her entire body shaking. “He was hurting you right? He was bad…wasn’t he?” 

“Yes Jemma, he was.” With one arm, he cradled her against his chest. “Let’s get you upstairs and I’ll clean up down here.” 

Jemma let herself be led upstairs and laid down on the bed she should’ve slept in the night before. She twisted the sheets in her hands to keep them from shaking. She knew she was in shock right now and hoped that a night of sleep would help Jemma sort herself out. 

She awoke a few short hours later in a cold sweat and decided that going back to sleep wouldn’t help matters. He was sitting at the foot of her bed, a knife being twirled absentmindedly through his fingers. Jemma ran a hand through her damp hair. “You don’t need to stand guard.” 

“I’m on watch.” He replied gruffly. 

“Whatever you say.” She stood up and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. “I’m going to get a drink from the kitchen…you want anything?” 

“You have vodka?” 

“It’s two in the afternoon.” 

“Technically it’s five in Russia…” 

She sighed. “I have imported Scotch.” 

“I was- wait ya serious?” 

“Yeah…I don’t drink much anyways.” Before he made any wise retort, she turned and made her way downstairs. He had been true to his word. Everything had been returned to before either of them had showed up. She filled the kettle and turned on the stove before grabbing a teacup and tumbler glass from the cabinet. Setting both on the counter, she realized that the bottle of Scotch was on the shelf above the fridge. “Bloody hell…” 

“Need help doll?” 

She huffed out a breath and faced him. “The bottle is above the fridge.” 

A smile curled his lips and he grabbed the bottle, his body briefly pressed up against hers. He waved the bottle. “Sure you don’t wanna drink?” 

Jemma couldn’t concentrate with him so close. He was looking at her with dark blue eyes nearly black, the heat in them bringing a flush to her own cheeks. His enticing scent of sandalwood was drawing her nearer and nearer. All she had to do was tilt her head up… 

The whistling of the kettle broke the spell and she weaved around him to pull it off the burner. Pouring the water in the cup, the made her way out to the living room and sat in the recliner, finally noticing the missing coffee table. 

What was she thinking? Jemma fought the urge to let her head fall into her hands, but settled for clutching the teacup. She watched him fill the glass to the rim and debated having a drink herself. She looked away before he met her eyes. 

“No one else seems to know of this location.” He finished the drink and set the glass in the sink. “I’m gonna leave before more do.” 

She looked up to see him pulling a long sleeve black and the leather jacket he’d come in. If she was being completely honest with herself, she was glad to see that the layers of clothing didn’t hide those broad shoulders or trim waist or those arms…snap out of it Jemma! “Will I see you again?” 

“Why? Miss me already?” 

“Yes…is that so bad?” 

“Well then…I hope to see you under better circumstances Jemma.” He turned to leave. 

“Wait!” She hurried to the kitchen and scribbled her private cell phone number on a slip of paper before holding it out to him. “If you’re ever in need of assistance…just call this number.” 

He looked at the paper and stuffed it into his leather jacket before pulling her in for a hard quick kiss that left her breathless. “I just might take you up on that offer.” She realized, that as the door shut, that she’d never asked him his name. 

………………………………………………. 

Of course, when Jemma came back a week later, her team knew something was different. She’d debriefed Coulson, leaving out some obvious details. It was one of the first times he seemed genuinely shocked about something. 

Skye seemed to realize the missing pieces and cornered her in the lab. “You’re hiding something.” 

“What? No…I…” 

“You’re still a horrible liar Jemma.” 

So Jemma told Skye everything, from the moment she walked through the front door until he left almost two days later. Skye squealed and wrapped Jemma in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you!” 

“I didn’t even get his name.” 

“So? If he was brainwashed like you said…maybe he doesn’t know his name.” 

“It doesn’t matter now Skye. He’ll call when he’ll call.” Or if… 

…………………………………………. 

Two months later, at two in the morning, her cell rang. Jemma nearly fell out of bed as she scrambled to reach it before it went to voice mail. “Agent Simmons.” 

“Hey doll…I seem to be in need of assistance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _chudovishche_ \- monster  
> This one kind of got away from me...oops :) Hope you liked it!


	15. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by Halsey.
> 
> In case anyone is confused: **Bold** is the Winter Soldier and _Italics_ is James.

Since he’d fallen from the train in 1944, James Buchanan Barnes had no control over his life. Had no say in what Armin Zola and Alexander Lukin ripped apart and sewed back together. They tore out Bucky Barnes and replaced him with the Asset, the Winter Soldier, the new fist of HYDRA… He became a weapon that was pointed at a target for the handler to shoot, which would be done with no questions asked or hesitation felt. At the end of every mission, his mind was torn asunder, destroyed by electricity again and again until he was nothing but a blank slate once more and he was put on ice until another mission came.

Steve Rogers gave him back his identity, gave the lost puppet a name. For the first time in nearly seventy years, he could smile again. He could finally feel things again. He could finally feel the insatiable rage towards the men who made him this blood-soaked thing…who treated him as nothing more than a weapon… Steve had helped him with this vendetta against the organization who had caused them both so much pain for so many years. It was all too easy to slip into the Soldier’s mindset during these times because the Soldier felt nothing while James (he’d taken to calling himself that now) felt everything. They burned everything to the ground, not leaving a trace that they had ever existed. It was during one of these times where the two ran into a small team of SHIELD agents. 

It was Steve’s hand on his shoulder that kept him from shooting the petite Asian woman that stepped forward. Steve wanted to hear them out, James knew. Just as he knew about the man that stepped forward. The average looking man who been brought back to life who was now the Director of SHIELD. James had his metal hand wrapped around Steve’s bicep before the man even realized he was moving. 

Phil Coulson’s explanation as to how he was alive was purposefully vague, but James believed him and at his nod, both he and Steve met with the others. James, using the Soldier’s eyes, cataloged each person. 

Melinda May, also known as The Cavalry, was a 5’ 4” Asian woman. She didn’t give him more than her name, but he knew she was assessing him like he was her. He knew she was skilled in multiple form of martial arts, hand to hand combat, and weaponry. James, not the Soldier, could see that she had been changed by traumatic circumstances as well. She would prove an admirable fighter when threatened. 

Daisy Johnson introduced herself next. There was a slight hesitation when she said her name, presumably a lie or she, like him, had finally figured out who she was. Slightly titled eyes hinted at Asian ancestry and she too appeared skilled in fighting. Her stance was similar to that of Agent May, telling him that May was once her SO. There were contraptions on her wrists that also told him that there was something more to her and when she stood near him, the vibrations in the air told him she was a Gifted and a powerful one at that. 

Leo Fitz was a young Scottish man presumably in his late twenties, born in Glasgow based on the few words he said and the Soldier recognized the look in the man’s eyes when he saw the arm. He was an engineer. James forced himself not to react to that anger when he noticed the stammering voice and shaking hands. It wasn’t out of fear of him, but something else. Brain trauma, his mind supplied, not fear. He wasn’t a fighter, but the Soldier knew that intelligence could be just as much a threat… 

Then there was Jemma Simmons. A petite woman born of Sheffield, England, she was in her late twenties and like Fitz, was a scientist. She was the only one who didn’t appear wary around him and actually offered him a hand to shake. James pushed the Soldier’s wariness back and took her slim hand in his, allowing a small smile to come to his lips. Unlike a lot of scientists he known, she treated him like a person. 

He liked to think the moment he realized he loved Jemma Simmons was the first time he laughed with her (a feat he hadn’t even manage with Steve yet) or the first kiss they shared. Those would’ve been the clichéd answers, the answer he would’ve given if they’d been like a normal couple, but they weren’t. Their lives were intertwined with SHIELD and HYDRA and, like he’d told her so long ago, his past would catch up with them and put her in the crosshairs. He didn’t think it would be his gun pointed at her now. 

“Kill her.” 

_No! No, I won’t!_

**Killing her is the mission. Complete the mission.**

“James…” Her teary eyes were wide. “Don’t…please…” 

“Why?” His voice had lost the Brooklyn drawl, its warmth replaced by a dead monotone. 

_Jemma, I’m sorry. I love you, I’m sorry…_

“She’s corrupted you. She must die.” 

**Corruptions must be eradicated.**

_She didn’t corrupt me! She helped me! Put down the gun! Put it down!_

“Shoot her.” 

His finger moved to the trigger. 

**Complete the mission.**

_NO!_

“Come back to me James…” Jemma took a step forward with her hands out. “Please come back…” 

_I’m trying Jemma. I’m trying…_

**Complete the mission.**

“Do it now!” The man’s calm voice was livid. “Kill her!” 

**Mission: Kill Jemma Simmons. Complete the mission.**

“I love you, James…I love you so much…” 

_Just leave Jemma. Run! Go find Steve!_

**Asset does not recognize the name 'James'. Who is James?**

_I am James! Me! Put the gun down!_

**That is not the mission. The Mission: Kill Jemma Simmons.**

_Don’t shoot her!_

**The Asset must complete the mission.**

_I will kill myself before I let you hurt another person I love._

**The Asset does not love. The Asset will complete the mission.**

Tears were running down Jemma’s cheeks. “Can you hear me, James? If you can hear me…I love you. I love you and I want you to come back…” 

“Who is James?” 

Her expression shattered. 

_I can hear you, sweetheart. Please hold on to that. Please…_

“Enough!” The Handler had a gun in his hand. “If he will not kill you, Jemma Simmons, then I will. And then I will kill him. HYDRA has no use for a broken weapon.” 

_NO! Stop him! Stop him, please!_

**Handler did not order the Asset to stop.**

“Last chance Soldier. Complete your mission.” 

_Kill the Handler. That is your new mission! Kill the Handler!_

**That is not the mission. The mission is-**

_Kill the Handler! Kill him!_

Even with his own gun now pressed to her head, Jemma smiled sadly. “I love you, James. I will always love you…no matter what.” 

_Kill him! Kill the Handler!_

**The mission is-**

_Kill the Handler!_

“Kill her Soldier! Kill her now!” 

**The mission is to-**

_Kill him please! Kill him!_

“I love you.” 

“SHOOT HER!!” 

**The mission is to kill-**

_Not her…please not her!_

The Handler had a finger on the trigger. 

_Stop him! Fucking kill him!_

**The mission…**

_I’m sorry Jemma. I love you so much…I’m sorry…_

**…is to kill…**

“James…” 

_Jemma…_

A gunshot rang out. 

**The Handler has been killed. Mission completed.**

The Handler was dead with a bullet between the eyes and with his death, the man’s control over the Solider was broken. 

James barely had time to holster the gun before her arms were around him, her face buried into his chest. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her in return. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and closed his eyes, breathing in her soothing floral scent. James pulled her into a deep kiss that conveyed everything he couldn’t say, everything he’d been screaming to her as he was trapped in his own mind. 

She pulled back, her kiss swollen lips curled into a beautiful smile. 

“I love you, Jemma Simmons.” He ran the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip. “I love so damn much.” 

She pulled him down for another kiss, her fingers tangling in his dark hair and her teeth nipping his lips. She was beaming when she leaned back. “I love you too James Barnes.”


	16. Safe and Sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song by Taylor Swift

_The first time Jemma saw him she was nine…_

She had been walking through the forest that had acted as her backyard, following a _Passer mountus_ (Tree Sparrow) through the trees. Jemma observed the bird as it hopped from branch to branch, scrambling over roots and moss-covered logs to keep it in her sight. She hadn’t been paying close enough attention when she’d started to cross the river, a trainer-clad foot losing traction and sending her into the icy water.

Her head smacked against the rocks the same moment her lungs seized from the sudden immersion, Jemma’s body too stunned and her mind too sluggish to pull herself from the water as it drug her downstream into oncoming boulders and fallen trees…

“Help!”

_Crack_

She screamed. “Somebody please!”

_Smash_

She cried out with every collision, inhaling water each time.

She knew, though, that no one would hear her. Her mother, a cardiothoracic surgeon, was in an emergency surgery right now and would be at least another six hours. Her father, reading by the window of his study, had probably just noticed she was gone…

Her muscles and chest burned as she fought the current, hands slipped off of the rocks and slimy wood. Her mother had always prided her on being a strong swimmer, but there was little she could do to stop her body from hitting the river’s obstacles. The last one had her right side slamming against a boulder and through the fiery pain that engulfed her chest, Jemma knew she had at least two broken ribs. That was her last thought before she was sucked under…

An arm wrapped around her torso and lifted her from the water with ease. Her chest burned as she expelled the water from her lungs, the stranger gentle as they lowered her gently onto the riverbank. Jemma continued to cough, mud squishing between her fingers.

When she could finally breathe, she looked up at her savior.

The man was _huge_ , at least six feet tall and all muscle with guns and knives strapped to him in various sheaths on his thighs and across his chest. His pale eyes were hazy with confusion, as though he wasn’t sure why he’d pulled her out.

The weapons alone should’ve scared her, but Jemma’s curiosity outweighed her fear the moment she saw his left hand. It was entirely made of metal, yet seemed to function as well as his other one. _Curiouser and curiouser…_

His brow furrowed as he stared at her, his voice hoarse from disuse. “Rebecca?”

Jemma opened her mouth to respond with _No, it’s Jemma_ , but thought better of it. She nodded as she pulled herself into a sitting position slowly, not wanting to startle the clearly confused and armed man by saying she wasn’t who he thought she was. Something told Jemma that this man’s demeanor could change from one second to the next.

The confusion faded, his eyes now clear and concerned. He knelt down in front of her, examining each bruise and contusion with such gentleness. The warm fingers of his right hand lightly prodded the bump on the crown of her head. “I thought Ma ‘n I told ya not to wander off.”

Now _she_ was the confused one, watching him closely. The man was American (although from where, she wasn’t sure) and Rebecca seemed to be his younger sister. Had something happened to them? Had something happened to _him_? The last thought made her sad… Had whatever happened to his arm been the reason he was so confused? Was that why he was armed to the teeth?

“Ya okay sis?”

The drawl in his voice was interesting…warm. Jemma responded, glad the hoarse throat covered the accent that was clearly _not_ American. “I’m f-f-fine…” A breeze cut through her soaked clothing and shiver went through her entire body. “A little cold is all.”

Without hesitation, he lifted her up and cradled her body to his chest. He walked across the wet and uneven stone…almost gliding. The man didn’t seem strained in the least as he began the steady incline back in the direction of her house.

Jemma wondered how he knew where she lived, but her thoughts were coming slower now. The warmth of him was seeping into her chilled body and, with each step, Jemma was becoming more and more lethargic. The thing she saw before finally slipping into unconsciousness was a hazy confusion come over his features…

She awoke in a hospital bed with a parent clutching each hand and a million questions. Jemma never spoke of the man…only saying she didn’t remember what had happened. They chalked it up to her head injury and moved on. Jemma didn’t think she could…

 

_The second time she saw him she was twenty-three…_

Jemma had been with S.H.I.E.L.D. for a few years now, had witnessed some of the most amazing and unbelievable things… yet she had found nothing on her mystery savior. The one-time search into their databases a few days ago had led to a four-hour lecture about looking into missions above her clearance level, which forced her to stay under radar. The man who’d saved her was no friend of S.H.I.E.L.D....

“Jemma?”

She blinked, Fitz’s voice returning her to the present. “Yeah?”

He glanced up from his tinkering for only a moment. “Your phone’s ringin’.”

Without looking, she picked it up. “Hello?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot to meet your parents for dinner?” Her mom’s teasing voice could be hear over the sound of clinking glasses and faint chatter of a restaurant in the background.

_Crap_. “I’m so sorry I didn’t realize what-”

She laughed. “You’re fine, love…we just got here.”

With the phone tucked between her cheek and shoulder, Jemma hurriedly pulled on heels (a gift from her mother). She put the conversation on speaker, shrugging on her overcoat and pulling her hair out from under her collar before buttoning it up. “I can be there in ten minutes.”

“Be safe Jemma.”

Jemma smiled softly, “I’ll see you soon.”

She waved to Fitz as she left, cursing herself as she stepped out onto the street crowded with both pedestrians and block after block of yellow taxis. Jemma closed her eyes, wondering for probably the thousandth time why they decided to stay in New York City on leave. 

Checking the time on her phone, she knew she would spend more time waiting for a taxi than it would take to actually get to the restaurant if she just started walking now. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in her was telling her that nothing good would come of a woman walking alone through New York City at night…as well as every other sensible part of her. In that moment, though, she was only concerned with getting to her destination on time…

With hands shoved in her pockets, she began the ten-block journey.

A breeze ruffled her hair as she turned a corner and Jemma realized only seconds later that she was walking by a club, the thumping base felt in her bones as she walking by the crowds of drunken men and women. She ignored the whistles and cat calls from the men, hunching her shoulders as she tried to hurry by.

A hand roughly gripped her arm and, in one fluid movement, had her pinned to the wall with a hand held over her mouth. His eyes were cold, hard like a person who made a habit of killing. The gun he shoved up into her ribs would’ve frozen her if his hand hadn’t begun to close around her throat. “Where is he?”

“I don’t, I…” Jemma’s voice trembled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…I swear.”

His eyes narrowed. “Tell me where the Asset is.”

Jemma was at a complete loss, thinking of any Assets she’d ever come across recently. She’d hardly left the lab, so the only contact she’d ever had with them had been through their files or samples. She hadn’t done anything more with them, hardly ever stepping out of line… She winced as the barrel of the gun dug deeper, and it suddenly came to her. It was him…the metal armed man. “I don’t know where he is.”

Her tone was clear: I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew.

With a shark like grin, he holstered his gun and wrapped both hands around her throat.

With the threat of a bullet gone, Jemma finally seemed able to move. Even as she kicked and elbowed and clawed, she knew his hold wouldn’t falter and in fifteen seconds she would lose consciousness and be dead in two minutes. She couldn’t stop the tears as they ran down her cheeks, thinking of her parents and Fitz and how they wouldn’t know anything was wrong until she was found…

The world was beginning to fade around the edges, her limbs growing heavy as she stopped struggling. She closed her eyes, making sure the people she cared for where the last faces she remembered…

A second later, there was a mechanical whirring followed by the _crunch_ of breaking bone.

Jemma felt the pressure around her throat disappear, falling to her knees, then her hands as she took lungful after lungful of air. She went to sit up, froze, and scrambled back against the wall as she saw the man’s body lying on the ground with a gruesomely crushed neck and the shadow of another as it fell over her. “I won’t…” She croaked, voice sounding as though she’d swallowed gravel, “I won’t tell you anything.”

“Are you alright?”

_That voice…_

Using the brick wall, she pulled herself to her feet and walked until the dim light of the street cast light on the silhouette’s face. She felt as though she’d stepped back in time, the man who pulled her from the water not having aged a day. His eyes, though, seemed clearer…more grounded to reality. She nodded, not taking her gaze off of him.

He did the same, brows furrowed in confusion. “Have we met before?”

“Yes, but it’s been almost fourteen years, and I-” Her voice trailed off as an odd combination of anger and longing flitting across pale eyes before it all left him in a weary sigh. Jemma wondered just how old the man was. She herself put him in his late twenties at most, but she could see _decades_ more behind those haunted depths. “You saved my life…pulled me from the water.”

His stare went distance, as if trying remember the event…

She took a moment to study him with the eyes of a S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist inside of a little girl.

She’s already given him a relative age, his musculature the likes of STRIKE team members Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins, and Jemma would bet her multiple PhDs that the man standing in front of her had no body fat whatsoever… She pulled herself away from that particular train of thought and instead focused on other details.

The pale olive skin and dark hair told Jemma that he’d had a parent that was Italian. The drawl she’d heard in his voice wasn’t as apparent now as it was fourteen years ago, but now she could say with certainty (having been in New York for a little over two months) that he’d grown up in Brooklyn.

The glint of light off his left hand drew her mind in another direction entirely and Jemma wondered how it worked. It didn’t appear to weigh more than the other, the metal used probably some kind of aluminum alloy that was light and sturdy.

“Why were you looking for me?”

She met his gaze, seeing the wariness, and gave him a small smile, “I wanted to learn the identity of the man that saved my life. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Most people looking for me hardly want anything good.”

Jemma pondered that for a moment, motioning to the body. “ _Why_ were they looking for you?”

“I left. They want me back.” He stated simply.

“Who’s they?” Jemma adjusted the collar of her overcoat, “and why do they want you back?” She knew she should stop asking him questions, but, as per usual, her curiosity got the better of her. She watched as something… _dark_ flashed across his face, the humming and whirring of his arm almost seeming to get louder as the seconds passed.

“People who think I’m theirs.”

Jemma frowned, remembering the questions she’d been asked. He’d been called the Asset, and, with looking at him, figured that he was their weapon of sorts and a lethal one at that… Her stomach twisted in disgust. “Human beings aren’t possessions.”

He chuckled, a hollow, bitter sound. “Try tellin’ them that.”

Jemma looked down at the body, throat tightening. “Will more be after me?”

“This attacker came alone, but others shouldn’t be too far behind.” His eyes scanned the shadows of the alley and the rooftops. He crouched next to the body, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from the man’s pocket. He growled out a curse in a sharp, guttural language that might’ve been Russian. “I’ll lead them away.”

“What? No-”

He cut her off with an intense look, “Where were you headed?”

Her heart leapt into her throat. “Oh, my- dinner with my parents.”

Pale eyes looked her over, settling on the necklace of fresh bruising around her throat. Pursing his mouth into a thin line, he pulled out a wad of crumpled bills out of his pocket and placed it in her trembling hands. “Go…maybe get a shirt that’ll cover those bruises.”

She shook her head. “What about you?”

“ _Go._ I’m sure your parents are worried about you.”

Jemma looked down at the money, shoving it her pocket and taking a hesitant step toward him. “I just…” She wet her lips, rubbing her throat. “What about you?”

“I’ve been running from them before, sweetheart.”

“My name’s Jemma.” She corrected, hoping the dim light disguised her blush.

“Go get a new shirt and go to dinner, Jemma.” His voice softened. “Don’t worry.”

Jemma found herself being gently shoved onto the sidewalk, bumping into a woman. Ignoring the dirty look, she looked back into the alley. Her savior and the body were gone and it was then that Jemma realized she’d never thanked him...

Walking into the first clothing store she could find, paying no attention to the confused stares of other customers and the cashier as she pulled out the money for a burgundy turtleneck. Jemma had been lucky that the autumn winds were cool enough to warrant the long-sleeved top.

Her parents had noticed nothing was amiss, surprisingly, but Jemma couldn’t get him out of her head. He was leading those men away from her and her family at the expense of his freedom. She took a cab back to her safe house, a different route than the one she’d originally come from.

Fitz had noticed her wardrobe change the second she’d walked through the door, dropping whatever he was working on when she’d wordlessly pulled down the collar and exposing the darkened bruises. She’d sat down and told him everything that had happened, all the way back to the first time the man had saved her.

She glanced at the digital display on the microwave that read 2:07 am. “I’m sorry, Fitz, I-”

“Want me to stay up with you?” Fitz asked.

Jemma nodded, “Tell me what you’re working on.”

She fell asleep twenty minutes later.

 

_The third time she saw him she was twenty-seven…_

Jemma had watched the fight between the Winter Soldier and Captain America and the Black Widow with wide eyes. Even with the goggles and mask, she would’ve recognized that arm anywhere. She looked over at a sleeping Fitz, chest aching at his prognosis: oxygen deprivation had caused damage to his temporal lobe, effecting his speech and fine motor skills.

Tears welled from her eyes, Jemma slightly surprised that she any left in her. Between pulling Fitz from the water and finding out the identity of her savior…she didn’t think she could take anymore shocks. It felt like she was drowning all over again.

A knock on the door startled her and she met Skye’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

Jemma nodded, gaze returning to the tablet.

“Do you know him?” She asked hesitantly, motioning to the footage on the screen.

“He saved me…twice.” Jemma replied, “I didn’t know who he was until-”

Skye nodded, “He’s been MIA since the helicarriers went down in the Potomac. No one’s been able to find him,” She looked over at Fitz, anger flashing through her eyes before she sighed. “and I know you probably didn’t want to hear that, but I figured I’d keep you updated.”

Jemma forced a small smile. “Thanks…is there a chance I could talk to Coulson?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, looking confused. “I’ll go get him.”

Jemma only had to wait a few minutes before the newly deemed Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. stepped through the door, mindful of the sleeping Fitz. Sadness seemed to fill his eyes for a brief moment before regarding Jemma, adjusting the files tucked under his arm.

“You wanted to talk?”

“I would like to go undercover…in Hydra.”

His eyes widened slightly in shock he composed himself. “Are you sure Jemma?”

Jemma looked at her hands, the blurry picture of the Winter Soldier staring back at her. Going undercover in Hydra was something she hadn’t done before…it was would be dangerous, but she thought of everything they’d done to Fitz, to her, to… _him_ and the decision was rather easy. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Coulson seemed skeptical, handing her a file. “Then let’s get started.”

…………………………………………………………………………..

She hadn’t even been undercover for three months before the lab was attacked.

Jemma stumbled as the entire building shuddered, an explosion shattering the glass windows. Her arms went over her head, Jemma hissing as shards sliced into her skin. She spun around, trying to find her desk. She needed to contact her team and she needed to do it now…

A secondary explosion knocked her off her feet and into the drywall with enough force to crack it and a couple of her ribs. She hit the floor gasping and choking, blood dripping from her mouth she got onto her hands and knees.

She squinted through the smoke and ash as the silhouette of the attacker appeared on the far side of the room, a gun gleamed in their hand. Wide eyed, she scrambled under a nearby desk seconds before the shooting started. Jemma clamped a hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut as those who survived the blasts were gunned down.

She felt little sadness for the others who would’ve gladly experimented anyone remotely Enhanced or brainwashed those who wouldn’t comply, but what she did feel was overwhelming fear on being killed and guilt for never telling Fitz what her real mission had been…

Silence filled the floor and the last gunshot echoed off the walls.             

Behind her eyelids, she saw a shadow pass by the desk. Her eyes snapped open in time to catch the combat boots before the desk was thrown away from her, a hand wrapped around her arm. Jemma cried out as she was forced to her knees, hacking as her ribs protested. She looked up, expecting a barrel of a gun pressed to her forehead, but was instead a set of startlingly pale eyes.

“Jemma?” He took a step back, gun already lowered. “What-?”

“I’m-” She coughed into her arm, holding up a pleading hand. “I’m not Hydra.”

The plates in his arms realigned furiously, the whirring loud in the quiet…

“I’ll go get my comms…you-” She coughed again, wincing as the pain in her chest flared up, “you can talk to the Director and he’ll explain everything. Please…”

He nodded, motioning with the gun. “Go ‘head.”

Using the desk she been hiding under, she pulled herself to her feet. Ignoring the growing pools of blood around her former coworkers, she step-sided the bodies and finally reached her desk, which remained surprisingly intact. She pulled out the phone with Skye’s number and dialed it.

“Jemma! Oh my God, you’re alright! I heard about what happened-”

“I’m-” She cleared her throat, but was able to stop the fit of coughing, “I’m fine, but you-”

“You don’t sound fine Jemma.”

“Could you go get the Director?” She glanced over at the man, his intense gaze nearly pinning her in place and she instead moved closer to her desk as her head began to pound. Jemma knew Skye would be confused at the formal address, but Jemma sighed as Coulson came on the phone.

“Simmons?” His voice was tinted with concern.

“There is someone who wants to speak with you.” Jemma felt more than heard, the man approach and take the phone from her trembling hand. She watched the man's expression, hoping Coulson could convince him and vouch for her.

His face remained neutral as Coulson spoke.

She turned back to her desk, pulling the USB drive from the computer and slipping it into her bra. Jemma was glad she'd saved the information every minute as the desktop was now smoking and riddled with bullet holes. Jemma faced the man once more, seeing his eyebrows knitting together in confusion as he glanced up at her.

"Where?" He pursed his lips, nodding. "Understood." He held out the phone to her.

Jemma took it, "Coulson?"

"Agent Bobbi Morse will be meeting you shortly. He has been asked to accompany you to HQ."

Jemma's mouth parted in shock, "Al-alright."

"I'll see you soon Jemma." Then the call ended.

She pocketed the phone, turning in time to see the man slip his gun back into the holster on his thigh. Jemma's hands trembled slightly and she went to grab something to keep her upright when her head throbbed painfully and her world began to spin, which turned out to be his chest. She put a hand to her forehead, the blood from a head wound pooling in her palm. "Sorry, I-"

He caught her before she fell back, cradling her in his arms like he'd had almost twenty years ago. He positioned her head so it laid in the curve of his neck, his dark hair tickling her skin as he began to make his way off the floor.

A flash of blonde was the last thing she saw before unconsciousness took her.

….............................................................

She awoke in a familiar hospital bed, her head and chest feeling strangely numb as she looked around the room. Fitz had fallen asleep in a nearby chair, one hand loosely clasping hers, and Skye snapped awake so quickly Jemma wondered if she'd actually been asleep. The shadows under her eyes confirmed her theory...

"How are you feeling?"

"Been worse." Jemma replied, her voice hoarse. "Where is he?"

"Coulson, May, and Bobbi are talking to him right now." Skye smiled knowingly, dark eyes bright and mischievous. "You know, he was very protective of you. Glared at anyone who came to close, well...except for Fitz and I of course."

Jemma blushed at what she was insinuating. "Skye..."

"What? Don't tell me you haven't kissed him yet."

Jemma felt the heat travel down her neck and shook her head. The thought has crossed her mind once or twice...okay maybe a lot. Since that night in New York, she hadn't gotten over when her name rolled off his tongue or the cheeky 'sweetheart' said in that warm drawl... "No," she shook her head, "It just wasn't...the right time."

"So you've thought about it?" Skye leaned forward.

"You've seen him."

Skye squealed loudly, which woke up Fitz. It took him a few moments to blink the sleepiness away, that achingly familiar smile curling his lips.

"It's...it's..." His brow furrowed, the words slipping out of his reach.

She squeezed his hand, "I'm glad to see you too and I'm sorry I didn't say anything, it was just-"

He shook his head. "I understand."

The door slid up, cutting into the conversation.

May looked at the three of them, something close to a smile in her eyes. "He's asking."

She looked at Skye and Fitz, "Help me up?"

They nodded, standing on either side of her as they both guided her the interrogation room and with each step, Jemma's heart leapt further up her throat. She squeezed their hands when they finally stopped in front of the door.

Skye and Fitz shared a look. "You good Jemma?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

Both were unsure, but dropped their hold and stepped back.

Jemma walked into the room, eyes drawn to the man pacing the length of it, who then stopped and turned to her. She was stunned by the emotion...the guilt she could see in his eyes, tearing up her insides. Without a word, she walked to him and wrapped her arms around his waist and laying her head against his chest.

His metal arm hesitantly wound around her back, while the other went around her shoulders.

Despite the fact that he'd killed nearly twenty people only hours earlier, she hadn't felt so safe since she'd found out about Hydra. She breathed in his scent of metal, gunpowder, and sweat, smiling as she looked up at her, holding his face in her hands. "Thank you for saving me."

His flesh hand came up to cup her jaw, callused fingers brushing along her cheekbone before moving back to run them through her hair. He smiled, bright and genuine, and he shook his head, "No, you saved _me_."

He pressed his lips to hers, silencing Jemma's thoughts for a while...


End file.
